


Vision Void

by aradian_nights



Series: How the Other Half Lives [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Ahsoka Tano Lives, Alternate Universe - Luke and Leia Switched, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Episode: s02e21-22 Twilight of the Apprentice, Gen, Luke Organa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-19 00:35:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10628475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aradian_nights/pseuds/aradian_nights
Summary: After a rather intense vision, Luke Organa sets out to save his former mentor, Ahsoka Tano.





	1. With the Ghost

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! and welcome to part.. five..? wow. this time i'll be focusing a bit on star wars: rebels, so if you follow this series and you don't watch the show... sorry? this takes place basically during the season two finale. i've been wanting to write these characters for awhile now, because i got into rebels well before i watch the clone wars or rewatched the prequels. so they all have a special place in my heart. i couldn't get into a new hope before having luke interact with them!
> 
> i plan on doing one more leia fic after this (also leaning towards rebels if u get me), and then starting a longer story that maps the events of the end of rogue one and a new hope. that'll be during the summer, so about a month away.

Dusk had sent shadows skittering across the cool sandstone bench on his father's balcony. He scarcely came out here nowadays, finding the knowledge of the day he had become Luke Organa more and more troublesome. He often stared up at the balcony from the outside of the palace, his eyes trailing back to the rounded architecture like a magnet. Of course he was snapped out of it quickly, and then chided for his short attention span. If Luke had been considered an avid daydreamer before, his newfound knowledge of the Force had placed him soundly in what some less professional men would call "loony."

"What are you working on?"

His father looked up. Since the accident (as it was officially recognized as), he had gained peppery gray hairs across both sides of his head. His eyes looked constantly swollen and droopy, and when he spoke his voice was reedy and dissonant. It seemed to be a pain to speak at all.

Bail Organa smiled up at Luke wryly. Despite everything, the glimmer of light never left his eye, and he was never short of smiles.

"Look for yourself."

Luke sat down hesitantly. He was in his night dress, his robe fluttering in the evening breeze. He took the datapad carefully in his hands. For a moment he didn't really see the screen, but his own reflection. Since his encounter with Vader, his face had grown rather thin and sallow, and his hair was growing gradually in uneven wisps. In this ghostly mirror of him, he looked skeletal and distant like a holo of a starving child.

Then he actually saw what his father had been looking at.

Luke's fingers tightened against the datapad, and he hunched over in shock, drawing the screen closer to his face.

"I won?" he whispered. He dropped the datapad into his lap and looked up at his father in disbelief. "I won the seat?"

"Congratulations, Senator Organa," Bail said as gently as his broken voice could manage, smoothing the short strands of blonde hair from his forehead gently. "You've done it."

Luke swallowed hard. This was what he had wanted, and yet the knot in his stomach had not disappeared. After Bail Organa had suffered that terrible accident and very suddenly had to withdraw himself from the Senate, there was a panic about who would fill it. Luke, who everyone knew had been eyeing the seat since he could walk, was considered too young to be a viable candidate. An interim senator had been sent in Bail's stead, so Alderaan remained represented, if only just for show. Luke knew Bail Antilles, and had sat in on his lectures on galactic law enough times that he had not worried much about the appointment. He had been the senator of Alderaan before Bail Organa, and so many had assumed he would just keep the seat.

Raymus Antilles, Bail's younger brother, had confided in Luke that his brother felt he was too old to, as the good captain had put it, put up with Palpatine's bullshit.

Luke rubbed his forehead dazedly. This felt like a dream. Perhaps not a particularly good one, either. He felt a bit nauseous.

"I'm going to be the senator of Alderaan," he said absently. "Do you suppose I'll see Vader much, on Imperial Center?"

It was always touchy when Vader's name arose. The moment it fell to the air, both Luke and Bail would stiffen regardless of who said it. They would sit silently, the word mulling between them and turning the very oxygen they breathed sour. There was no taking it back, it seemed.

"Unfortunately," Bail murmured, "that is part of the job description."

Luke glanced at his father sadly. "Papa," he said, taking Bail's hand. "I won't tell him. You know I won't."

"No," Bail sighed. "No, I know you won't. I suppose that makes me more worried."

"He's not my dad," Luke said firmly, squeezing his father's hand. " _You_ are. Vader has done nothing to prove to me he is worth knowing, so why should I put in the effort?"

Bail glanced down at him, his dark eyes amused and unconvinced. "That sounds," he said, his voice a small rasp, "incredibly like a _lie_ , my son."

Luke flushed, and he set the datapad aside sheepishly. "What do you mean?" he asked defensively. "That's not a lie."

"It's not a truth, either."

Luke sighed, and he shook his head. "I don't want him to know, papa," Luke told Bail curtly. "What if he tells the Emperor? I'll be taken away for sure. No way. It's safer if I just keep him on a hook and let him think he has some other child lost in the galaxy, waiting oh so desperately for their long lost father to return to them."

Night was upon them. Alderaan's own species of cricket, a loud and raucous creature that whined all night, began to cry. The only light was the light of the datapad between them, an ominous glow of bare technology humming synthetically, and the light of the stars that winked above them so surely.

Bail drew his thumb over Luke's knuckles gingerly. "Would it be easier not knowing?" he asked.

Luke looked at him sharply. He drew his hand away and scowled at the stone beneath his feet. "Of course not," he sighed. "Are you joking? I needed this. Knowing about the Force— even just knowing a little bit of where I came from has helped me so much. Even if I have trouble reconciling Vader with my own feelings."

"I understand."

"Do you?"

They sat in silence. Luke had turned his eyes pointedly toward his father's face. He loved Bail Organa. He loved Bail Organa more than he thought a living being could love anything or anyone. But Luke could not help this surge of bitterness that ran through him like a sword, and the words fell from his lips unbidden. Bail did not look taken aback, nor did he seem saddened. He simply sat, unsurprised, and closed his eyes.

Luke exhaled sharply through his nose, and he stood sharply. He pulled his robe tighter around himself, a chill shuddering through him.

"Right," he muttered. "Goodnight, papa."

Bail did not respond. He did not look at Luke as he stalked off toward his bedroom.

Was it right? Could he hope to find the good in a man that he knew— he _knew_ — was the closest thing to evil incarnate the galaxy had ever seen. The atrocities done by Vader's hand was enough to keep a million children up at night. And that man was Luke's father.

That thought plagued him like a bad dream.

His _father_. How on earth had that happened?

He didn't ask Bail for any details. He didn't want to know how it had happened, not really. He was a curious soul, but certainly not _that_ curious. Did Vader even deserve that much? Luke had given him more than enough by simply fancying the idea of being able to speak to him one day about their relationship. Even then, Luke felt sick when he thought about it.

It wasn't fair. He thought he was good and humble and compassionate, but Vader threw him for a loop. How was he supposed to be anything when he didn't even know how to feel like a person anymore?

He never told anyone how he really felt about it. Mostly because he couldn't, but also because he wasn't even sure if he fully understood it. He felt like he was stewing in his own fear and anxiety, and it was going to make his skin slough off his bones from the pressure. What a slow and painful death this was.

Lying awake, as he tended to for hours on end these days, he imagined it all different. What if his mother had survived his birth? Would he even know his father— Bail, that is— at all? His mother, Breha? It made his stomach turn uncomfortably.

When sleep came, it rushed him like a tidal wave. It took over him, forcing him to succumb to a blanket of uncertainty.

A dream came upon him steadily, and he found himself perched upon a branch of a tree on a popular path of one of the mountains surrounding Aldera. Below him was a boy about his age, his features dark and strong. Warm brown skin glowed faintly in the shivering morning light, and his shaggy black hair seemed to absorb the sun.

"Ezra," Luke gasped eagerly. The boy, who he had only met once, was a bit silly and hot-headed, but just as well he was so sincere and friendly that it was hard not to like him. It helped that Luke knew he was Force sensitive, and had spent the better part of his mission with the boy trying to keep his cool and _not_ tell Ezra everything.

Ezra Bridger stood below him. He was holding something in his hands.

"Hey!" Luke swung himself down from his tree, bouncing eagerly toward Ezra's side. "Ezra, what are you doing here?"

Ezra turned his face very slowly to look at him. Luke froze, blinking vacantly into Ezra's tear streaked face. There was a strange, ominous red glow that framed his chin and lips. The sun was torn from the sky, ripped away by some phantom hand, and suddenly it was night, and the woods creaked eerily around him, crickets crying with the fervor of dying men, and the only light was the blood red object in Ezra's hands.

Luke, a stranger to the Force, knew only instinct.

He whirled Ezra around and snatched the odd triangular artifact from his hand, and he hurled it as far as he could. Ezra cried out, his voice catching in his throat, and he reached for it hopelessly. Luke grabbed the boy's face in his hands and forced him to look into his face.

"That thing was evil," Luke said. "I know it! It won't help you!"

"How do you know," Ezra Bridger whispered ruefully, peeling Luke's hands from his cheeks, "what will help me? What is evil? You are the spawn of Darth Vader."

Luke gaped at him. Ezra scrubbed his face in his hands, and he moaned. The forest was inked over, and walls began to form where trees had once been. Luke shrunk back uncertainly.

"Ezra…" Luke reached forward for Ezra's hand. "We should go."

His fingers fell through Ezra's flesh.

Ezra Bridger had disappeared.

Luke felt the crushing darkness, and he was frozen in shock as it seemed to drown him. He could not make peace with it. It was cold and writhing, swallowing him up and reaching down his throat and filling him with icy despair. It jerked him around like a rag doll, throwing him from the ceiling to the floor and heckling him with lies that he could not sift through, that he could not even quite understand.

He was cold, and the air was filtered through a red screen. He was dazed. A girl stood before him— a woman— she looked at him— could it be—?

Fulcrum?

"I was beginning to believe I knew who you were," she said, the distance between him and her an astonishing stretch and yet too close entirely, "behind that mask. But that's impossible. My master could _never_ be as vile as you."

No. Ahsoka. That was her name. Ahsoka Tano. She stood with the surety of someone who had lived through millennia, and could chart the stars blind. Something in him was churning. How ugly and pitiable that part was.

Pride. Anguish. Regret.

It all stirred inside him like a simmering stew, blurring together and becoming one white hot pang of pure rage.

There she was. What a fragile thing she'd been. What an ironclad thing she'd become.

He was sick on the sentimentalities of a forgotten beast.

Let her burn.

And just then, Luke found himself cast afloat, the shackles of the rage and regret and raw disgust falling away from his heart, and he rolled in the current of red and purple light, words falling away from his ears and gurgling like rushing water. He was an observer here, in this world projected beyond his eyes, and he saw Ezra Bridger had materialized again behind Darth Vader. The boy was so small and feeble on the floor, his warm brown skin blanched in this terrible pulsating light.

Vader was speaking, his low tone even and hardly betraying whatever turmoil Luke had felt within him.

"I destroyed him."

So sure! Luke was floating, hardly conscious of himself at all, and even he could taste the lie in it all.

Ahsoka's expression was as somber as an ancient city crumbling to dust. She was far enough away that the details of her face were not so easy to read, but the resignation was there, and the determination that followed was written upon stone.

Her eyes flashed open.

"Then I will avenge his death," she said gravely.

Vader stood in the gasping light that seemed to battle with the choking, writhing darkness that had spit Luke here.

"Revenge is not the Jedi way."

Ahsoka's eyes were set forward and blazing fiercely in the shifting light. There was something here between them, the sadness growing and the rage intensifying, as though a wound had opened and all the things left to fester in time had spilled out between them.

"I am no Jedi," she said. She unhooked a pair of lightsabers from her hips, and they hissed together as the white blades lit up the dark in a humming haze.

Suddenly she was springing forward, her step light and her body a blur, and her white sabers clashed hard with the blood red blade that Vader held tightly in his fists. The crash seemed to rock the entire structure, the floor quaking, and the hum of lightsabers became like a thunderclap.

Luke woke in a state of shock, inhaling great gulps of air and seizing his chest. He curled up against his bedsheets, his knees tucked to his chin as he blinked tears from his eyes.

That had been _horrible_.

That had been—

Had that been real?

Luke felt his chest rise and fall heavily, sweat causing his white nightshirt to stick uncomfortably to his chest. He rubbed his forehead, and that was sweaty too. Small wisps of hair stuck to his skin. And his skin was crawling. Everything in him felt leaden and loose, like spare coins rolling around in his stomach. His fingers shook as he dragged them down his face and shuddered.

Real. That had been real.

He felt it. In his heart. In his skin. How true and raw and vicious that had all been. He felt displaced, like a message torn out of a broken bottle, crumpled up, and stuffed back in. He saw his own hands, starkly white in the darkness of his bedroom, and for a minute or so he did not recognize them as his own. Was he even in his own body? It didn't feel like it.

It took him so long to even crawl out of bed, he forgot how to move his legs and fell flat on his face. He did not move, and in fact let the cool wooden floor brand his cheek. Maybe his soul would spill out of his body and he could escape into the floorboards.

How had that been real?

When he finally pushed himself upright, he felt a bit better, and also a bit like vomiting. He didn't. He dragged himself to his window and rested his forehead against the glass. The sky was dark and the city was silent. Nothing but the mountain's silhouettes greeted him.

He stared in silence, a silence that gnawed at his brain and laughed beneath his skin. It was horrifying. All of it. What had happened? Why had Ahsoka spoken to Vader like that? Why did Vader _feel_ that way?

Why did Luke know what Vader was feeling, anyway?

He made his decision. He made it fast.

Luke stripped his nightclothes off and kicked them aside, digging through his wardrobe and snatching a loose gray woolen sweater that buttoned at his neck. He left the wide collar loose as he tugged on a pair of durable trousers and sturdy leather boots. Next he grabbed a rucksack from beneath his bed and dumped spare clothing into it. A change in undergarments, a plain white travelling cloak, black pants, a loose cotton shirt. Nothing particularly notable. He shrugged on a brown leather jacket, Corellian cut. He dared not look in the mirror, as his reflection often frightened him these days, but he figured he looked less like a prince than a stable boy.

The note he left was frenzied and half-illegible. He did not read over it, too scared he might rip up the flimsi and lose his nerve. He left it on the corner of his bed and threw his bag over his shoulder, the dregs of his shock still glazing his mind.

He had the choice now of going to the kitchen before the shipyard. A quick glance at the chrono told him that it was early enough that the cooks and servants would be awake and preparing breakfast. Best not, then.

The morning was cool and the palace guards were sparse. He passed by the few that remained easily, slipping into a shuttle and making a dash for the console. It was slower and a little less aesthetically pleasing than a yacht, but it'd attract less attention. Once he had the engine roaring, he eased the ship off the platform and ignored the shouts of the guards as he took off.

Somewhere between punching in the coordinates he knew only by some sheer luck of his father being incapacitated and unable to immerse himself fully in the ongoing attempt to unite the various Rebel cells across the galaxy and diving into hyperspace did Luke Organa realize what he was doing.

He had run away.

For the first time in his life, he had gone against all reason and given in to his impulses. He'd stolen a shuttle. He'd absconded without telling anyone, without even a real explanation. The note he had left had been so brief and disorienting, and when he thought over the words he had used, he almost panicked and turned back. What would his father think? His mother? How disappointed would they be?

But he was already on this path. He could not go back until he felt that he had made something right. Of course, he had no clue what that meant. How could he make anything right? He didn't even know what he was looking for.

Hours in hyperspace should have been enough to clear his head, but it only made him feel more lost and afraid. What was happening to him?

Of course he was bored and half mad with the thought of his dream playing over and over in his head. Whether it was real or not seemed irrelevant at this point. He felt in his heart that there had been some truth to it, and that was all that mattered.

About halfway through his journey, something crashed at the back of the ship. Luke had nodded off at the yoke, the luminescent rings of hyperspace lulling him into a blissfully dreamless sleep, and he jerked awake with a shout.

"What…?" He stumbled to his feet, digging the heel of his palm into one eye and looking around the cockpit aimlessly. He wandered deeper into the shuttle, which was rather small to begin with, and he paused at the spilled rations box in the middle of the corridor. He blinked at it. Then he noted a small compartment beside it. He pressed the button on the wall, and the small door slid open.

A series of wild beeps made him gasp, and a small astromech droid quickly rolled right out. Luke fell onto his butt rather unceremoniously.

"Mother of—!" Luke winced, and he kicked the little astromech lightly as it whirred. "What are you _doing_? Aren't you Captain Antilles's droid?"

It beeped in affirmation. Luke stared at it blankly.

"Then why are you here?" he asked very slowly. "How did you even get on my ship?"

It hummed a few odd boops and beeps, and Luke sighed, pushing himself upright and shaking his head. "Whatever," he muttered. "R2-D2, right? I guess it can't hurt to have a droid around. Just don't go telling my father about what I'm doing here, kay? It's a secret."

Luke picked himself up and gathered the ration bars from the floor hastily. These would last him the whole journey, right?

R2-D2 beeped harshly at him when he returned to the cockpit. The little droid rolled in after him, bumping the back of his chair and demanding to know where they were going.

"Are you always this nosy?" Luke twisted in his seat to quirk a brow at the droid. "Odd little thing, aren't you? Well, if you've got to know, we're going to a little planet called Atollon. It's in the Outer Rim, which is why it's taking so long for us to get there."

R2-D2's beeps were slow and haughty in his reply, which was essentially that he had never heard of this planet and that they should go somewhere else.

"You're not even supposed to be here," Luke pointed out. "You don't get a say in anything."

A light, playful array of beeps reminded Luke that this ship was stolen.

"I know that," Luke hissed, turning his face forward and gripping the yoke. "I'm going to give it back! I just couldn't use my personal ship for this. I needed something totally nondescript."

R2-D2's reply was inquisitive, his beeps coming out quick and curious. Luke's binary was rusty, so he couldn't quite follow his question exactly, but he got the gist.

"Because the last thing I need is someone looking at me and seeing Prince Organa, newly elected senator of Alderaan," Luke sighed. "Just— trust me, okay? It's better if I look like a common trader or smuggler. Hell, I'll take thief or pirate if I've got to. Anything is better than prince right now. Prince just screams a bounty waiting to be cashed in, and I don't have time for that."

R2-D2 moved closer. His beeps were vaguely wonderstruck.

"Yes," Luke said. "I'm Alderaan's new senator. Do you find that hard to believe?"

R2-D2 rocked back and chortled.

Luke rested his cheek in his hand and raised his eyebrows vacantly at the blue veins of hyperspace. "Yeah," he muttered. "Me too."

The rest of the ride was rather silent. Artoo would make a comment now and again, but otherwise Luke was left to the weight of his thoughts. He hoped that maybe Ezra Bridger and his master might provide some answers.

When the ship exited hyperspace, the on-planet communications team immediately contacted him.

"This is Luke Organa of Alderaan," he said, setting a hand on the top of R2-D2's dome. "Requesting to land."

His request was granted. He made it to the surface without much fuss.

"Right," Luke said, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "I suppose we better not keep them waiting."

As Luke descended the exit ramp with R2-D2 in tow, there were quite a few bystanders simply observing him. He paid them no mind. He was quite used to being stared at.

He paused as a Twi'lek woman approached him, her green lekku swinging as she marched forward. He smiled warmly at the woman.

"Hello, Captain Syndulla," he greeted, trying not to look too sheepish. "It's nice to see you again."

Hera Syndulla was a beautiful woman, with a smooth heart-shaped green face and bold green eyes that glowed with the fire of ten suns. She was wearing, as usual, a pilot's orange overalls modified so it was lightly armored. Her goggles rested on top of her pale headwrap, and her lekku swung as she moved her head.

"Luke," Hera said, her expression twisted in confusion. "What are you doing here?"

He glanced behind her, his eyes grazing over Sabine Wren's colorful Mandalorian helmet and Zeb's stark purple face. He grimaced.

"It's a little… hard to explain," he said.

"Why don't we go inside," Hera suggested. "I imagine you have a lot to say."

"I guess so…" He bit his lip and looked around the shipyard. "Are Kanan and Ezra around? I would really like to speak to them about this."

Hera looked down at him quizzically. "They're on a mission at the moment," she said. "I'm not sure what their presence would do, though, since they don't handle much information in regards to the Rebellion."

Luke, who had been following her toward the base's entrance, stopped very suddenly. All three crewmen of the _Ghost_ paused to look back at him.

"I'm not here about the Rebellion, Captain Syndulla," he said.

Her brow furrowed. She turned around very slowly, and she lowered her chin. "Okay," she said. "I'm not sure I follow. Luke, does your father know you're here?"

Luke smiled back at her. He found himself washing away his uncertainty and throwing on his politician's mask. "Captain Syndulla," he said, "I know this sounds strange, but it will make sense once I speak to Kanan and Ezra. Do you know when they'll be back?"

Hera pursed her lips. She sighed and whirled around. "No," she said tersely. "They left with an agent of your father's yesterday, and it's difficult to tell how long their missions will be. You met them before, so I'm sure you can understand."

"I… well, yes…" Luke and Artoo moved into the base, and he looked around in wonder. He'd never been on an actual Rebel base before. It was exciting. "Did you say an agent of my father?"

Artoo beeped beside him, and Luke jumped. He'd nearly forgotten the little droid was there.

"Yes, I remember you," Sabine said with a small laugh. She patted Artoo's dome as she pulled her helmet from her head and shook out her short blue hair. Luke smiled at her. She frowned back at him, looking puzzled. "This droid is yours?"

"No." Luke bit his lip. "He's actually Captain Antilles's droid— um, one of my father's men. I don't know why, but the little guy followed me onto my ship."

"Droids," Zeb muttered.

Hera waited patiently for this to conclude before she replied to Luke.

"I'm not sure how much information your father has disclosed to you," she said cautiously.

"More than I'd like," Luke said cheerfully.

They all looked at him vacantly. The vacancy melted to surprise, curiosity, and discomfort respectively.

"That was a joke," he said quickly. "I like knowing stuff about the Rebellion. It's just that some things are… a bit more than I think I can stomach sometimes. If you get what I mean?"

Hera's big, bright green eyes melted in sympathy. She sighed, and she nodded gravely. "Yes," she said. "I understand. I don't know exactly what he's told you, but I'm sure it's a lot to take in."

Luke nodded. He was thinking about Vader, even though he knew he shouldn't be, and it made him feel sick.

"Kanan and Ezra went on a mission with Fulcrum. Your father's Fulcrum, to be precise."

A chill ran down his spine. He felt it like a bolt of lightning striking through his heart, and he looked at Hera very sharply.

"Ahsoka Tano?" he whispered.

Hera peered at him. She squinted, and said warily, "Yes?"

Luke pressed his hand to his forehead. His heartbeat had accelerated astronomically, and the events of his dream came flooding back. He had felt sick before, but now he felt actually nauseated. There were stars at the corners of his eyes, and his breath came up short.

"Is he gonna puke?" Zeb whispered to Sabine. She elbowed him harshly.

"Luke?" Hera took his shoulders and pressed her warm fingers to his forehead gingerly. "Hey, look at me. Do you need to sit down?"

He nodded. Fiercely.

Hera led him to a seat near the holoprojector, and he sat down heavily. He held his face in his hands.

"I've known Fulcrum for a while, Luke," Hera told him as she rubbed his back soothingly. "She's a fierce and trustworthy ally."

Luke spoke with his face in his hands, and a finality to his tone that did not feel like it fit in his mouth.

"She will die."

Hera's hand froze against his spine, and he felt her stiffen. He felt the whole room go still. He dragged his hands down his face, and he looked up at Hera. She had a sweet face, smooth and loving in a way that reminded him of his mother. She looked down at him in shock, her fingers drifting away from him like he was an animal she had not quite realized was poisonous.

"What the hell?" Zeb asked, his voice raising. "Are you out of your mind, kid?"

"Zeb," Hera said quietly.

"Zeb's right, Hera!" Sabine looked angry. She shot Luke an irritated look, and she shook her head. "We're worried enough as is, and then this kid comes along and starts spouting some bantha shit, and you think we should what? _Listen_?"

"I'm sorry, Luke," Hera breathed, looking down at him sympathetically. "I don't know what to say, but I need you to sit tight, okay? I have to go make some calls."

"To my father," Luke said.

Hera's eyes flew toward in incredulously. Luke did not look at her. He did not look at anyone. There was bile in his mouth, and he felt cold.

"That's fine," he said. "He should know I got here safely. Though I wouldn't mention to him that you think I'm crazy. He won't like that."

Hera's expression softened a great deal. "I don't think you're crazy, Luke," she said.

He looked up at her. He wrung his hands in his lap, and he smiled tightly. "That makes one of us," he murmured. His face felt hot. He blinked, and reached for his cheek. When he glanced down at his fingertips, he saw that they were wet. He quickly scrubbed at his cheek and eyes with the heel of his hand.

"Sabine," Hera said sharply, "stay with him. Don't let him out of your sight."

"Noted," Sabine said. She put her hands on her hips and glanced down at him. "You want a tissue?"

"Please," he murmured.

"Zeb, get him a tissue."

Zeb glared at her, but he went without complaint.

Sabine leaned back against the round holoprojector, studying him with sharp, wry eyes. They were reminiscent of Raanwood nuts, a native to Alderaan that were large and oblong. She set her helmet aside and took a good look at him.

"You know," she said, "for what it's worth, I get it."

Luke stared at her.

She sighed, and looked up at the ceiling. She shrugged. "You know, the overbearing parent, the need to get away. You can say if you ran. It's not like you're the first person to ever run away from home."

"It's not like that," he murmured.

Sabine quirked an eyebrow. "Sure," she said, her voice barely containing her biting sarcasm. "Okay."

"Really." Luke sighed and rubbed his face. "I don't know how to explain it. If I did I'd have done it by now, and maybe you'd understand. Does this happen to them?"

Sabine tilted her head. "Who?"

"Ezra and Kanan."

She blinked. "Does what, exactly?" She folded her arms across her chest and grimaced. "I'm not really sure what you're talking about."

He sighed deeply and slumped in his chair. Should he just come out and say that he had the Force? Would that be easier? But his father had told him that no one could know. He assumed these people were included, no matter how much he wanted to trust them.

Luke had a feeling he'd stop caring in an hour or two.

Zeb returned with tissues, and Luke took them gratefully. Once he mopped up his face he apologized profusely.

"I don't know why I said it," he whispered. "I don't know. It's not like I meant to scare you, or anything."

"Sure, kid," Zeb said, exchanging a glance with Sabine. "You know, we all have bad days."

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek. He stared at his hands, and he wanted to laugh.

"I've been having a bad year," he muttered.

Sabine smirked. "Haven't we all," she said dryly.

Hera returned with a man Luke thought he might vaguely recognize. He was elderly, with a bald head and a snowy white beard. He did a double take when he looked at Luke, his mouth disappearing into his beard as he frowned.

"Luke," Hera said, kneeling down before him and taking his hands. "Your father said you didn't tell him you were coming here. He said you left a note, but didn't explain why. Can you tell me now?"

He swallowed hard and looked away from her eyes. They were so big and earnest that it made him sad. He felt the sorrow in them before the sorrow had even arrived.

"To speak with Kanan and Ezra," Luke said.

"But why?" Hera shook her head. "They're… well, they're not usually who people come to see. I know you were on a mission with them before, but—"

Luke looked up. He felt something, like the snapping of a viol string, and he inhaled sharply. Pain was dancing all around them, and he breathed it in. He choked on it.

He looked into Hera's eyes and he squeezed her hands.

"Go," he whispered.

Her brow furrowed uncertainly, and her eyes flickered over his face as though she might be able to read him. And then someone shouted, "They're back!"

Hera jumped to her feet. She whirled around, her eyes trailing from Sabine, to Zeb, to the new man that Luke didn't know. They all shared similar expressions of hope and fear. Then Hera looked down at Luke, who shrunk in his seat.

"Stay here," Hera ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he murmured.

So Luke sat, sick and dazed, while the room emptied out. He thought about his father, who had almost certainly sent someone to retrieve him the moment Hera had called him, and he thought of his dream. That dream that was real, that dream that was too terrible to bear. What had happened? Why was Ezra even there?

He remembered that choking feeling, that odd sensation of not quite being in Vader's skin, but touching his emotions in a way that worried him. Had that really been what Vader had been feeling? How could Luke even know that?

It made no sense.

He took a deep breath. He'd just come right out and tell Kanan and Ezra about his dream. He didn't know what he'd say to Ahsoka.

His own voice flooded into his mind, haunting him like a steady refrain.

 _She will die_.

Luke swallowed hard.

He leapt to his feet as the group of them shuffled in, Sabine marching in first with a face like wax as she pushed aside anything immediately in the way. Zeb was next, his hand on the shoulder of the man he did not know, who had his head bowed and his mouth hidden behind white knuckles. Then came Hera, supporting Kanan by the arm. Luke watched in mute horror as the man held out his fingers to the air, his eyes bound tightly with a white linen cloth.

"Someone get a medic!" Hera cried.

Luke shrugged off his jacket and threw it aside. He pushed the chair he had been sitting in forward, and Hera helped Kanan down into it.

"Let me help," Luke gasped, rolling up his sleeves. Hera shot him a cold, frantic look. Luke looked her in the eye, and he set his jaw. "Captain, I have extensive medical training. I served as a volunteer nurse for nearly a year while studying diplomacy on war torn planets."

Hera looked away, and she exhaled sharply. "Fine," she said. She had Kanan's face in her hands. He had reached up and grasped one slender green hand, laying her palm flat against his cheek and leaning into it.

"Who is that?" he asked. His voice sounded oddly level for a man who seemed so severely injured.

"It's Prince Luke, Kanan."

Luke turned suddenly, jumping at the sound of Ezra's small, weak voice. The boy he had befriended not a few months earlier seemed so different now. He stood slumped, his air of arrogance and boyish charm gone like a candle blown out. He looked weary and wan, his brown face drained of color and streaked with sweat and dirt.

The last time they'd met, Ezra had been sad, certainly. Luke had sat and comforted him as he mourned the loss of his parents. But this was so much different. In a way, when Ezra had grieved for his mother and father, he had been expecting it. Whatever had happened here, though? It had positively wrecked him.

"Luke Organa?" This time Kanan's voice sounded faint. "What's he doing here?"

"It doesn't matter, love," Hera said tenderly, her thumb stroking his cheek absently. "Let's see what we can do about your eyes."

"You can't save them, Hera."

She didn't flinch, but Ezra did. He shrunk back and turned away, holding his stomach like he might be sick.

"Let me see," Luke said.

Hera glanced at him. She bit her lip and backed away from Kanan. He did not let go of her hand, however, so she simply stood a yard apart from him, their fingers locked together tightly.

Luke gingerly removed the bandage that had been applied around his head, biting the inside of his cheek as he peeled it back from a glistening red and black wound. Kanan exhaled through his teeth, and he turned away sharply when the bandage was finally removed. The flesh was mottled and ruined, half raw and gleaming and half burnt and charred. His eyelashes had been singed off, and he kept his eyes closed to spare Luke whatever horror his eyeballs had endured.

"Well," Luke said, "you still have eyelids."

"Oh, wonderful," Kanan breathed. "Good to know."

"Artoo, can you grab my bag? I have medical supplies in there."

Artoo beeped in a satisfactory manner, obliging as Luke lifted Kanan's chin and tilted his head from side to side.

"May I ask what happened?"

Kanan half snorted. He winced, and gritted his teeth in pain. "Ah…" He grimaced. "A mission gone wrong. Nothing to worry about, your highness."

"Kanan," Luke said gently. "First of all, it's just Luke. I'm nothing special, especially not here. Second of all, I know what lightsaber burns look like."

They all seemed to bristle at that. Hera squeezed Kanan's hand while Kanan's mouth dropped open, and his brow furrowed tightly.

"You _do_?" Ezra croaked in disbelief.

Luke released Kanan's chin and tugged his sleeves up sharply above his elbow, rolling them up to his bicep. Ezra blinked and leaned closer, as did Hera and Sabine. If possible, Ezra grew paler, and he looked up into Luke's eyes with a sudden vivid horror.

"How…?"

"There are so many," Hera said in a breathless voice, her eyes darting from arm to arm. She pulled Luke closer and pushed his sleeve up farther, her expression twisting in disgust as more scars were revealed. "Who did this to you?"

"What?" Kanan asked sharply. He sounded irritated. "What is it?"

Luke took Kanan's hand and placed it on his forearm. His fingers were callused, and they brushed the raised, fleshy white scar uncertainly. He went rigid in shock.

"I don't know the woman's name," he admitted. "She was an Inquisitor. I think she went by the Seventh Sister, or something like that. I don't know."

"Inquisitor," Kanan repeated quietly at the same time that Ezra gasped, " _Seventh Sister_?"

Luke took his bag from Artoo and began rummaging through it. He found his medkit, and he popped it open. After disinfecting his hands, he went to work.

"I'm guessing you had a nasty run in with her too?" Luke began brushing dead, burned skin from around the edges of the wound. The skin was so far gone that Kanan did not seem to feel it.

"You could say that," he said dryly.

"She's dead, if it makes you feel any better," Ezra said darkly.

Luke paused. He glanced back at him with a frown. "It doesn't," he said. Ezra merely shrugged. So Luke went back to working on the burn. "This will heal. You'll have a scar, and I can't say much for your vision, but it will heal."

Kanan swallowed hard, and he nodded. Luke removed the last of the dead skin, and he began to apply some bacta. Kanan hissed at first, but soon relaxed and let Luke's nimble fingers smooth the salve over his raw eyes.

"Why would an Inquisitor torture a prince?" Kanan asked suddenly. "Were you ransomed, or something?"

Luke laughed. It was a hollow sound in this somber room. "I was stolen from Naboo by Darth Vader," Luke said absently, "a little under a year ago."

"What?" Ezra asked flatly.

Kanan sat up. He caught Luke's wrist, and he opened his eyes. They were reddened, shot with blood and could barely move. And yet he stared at Luke, and his grip tightened.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Luke stared back at him. He smiled faintly, and he patted Kanan's hand. "I think you know," he said. "I think you feel what he felt."

"What?" Ezra repeated, this time very sharply. He looked around him hopelessly, confusion dragging on his cheeks. "What feeling? I don't…"

"Reach out with the Force, Ezra," Kanan murmured.

Ezra grimaced. He did not seem to like that idea much at the moment. But he did as he was told obediently, and he reached out in the Force. His touch was feather light and curious, nudging Luke like the head of a lothcat.

In his mind, the mountains stood. He had not let them down, and had been strengthening them since the fateful encounter with Vader.

He let the mountains sink into the ground. Just this once.

Ezra's eyes snapped open, and he took a large step back. His expression was at the same time fearful and delighted.

"Why didn't you say?" he gasped, dragging his hands through his hair fitfully. "Before? Why didn't you tell us?"

"I'm not supposed to tell anyone," he said simply. He went back to applying the salve. "It's not a part of myself I particularly embrace."

"What's happening?" Sabine asked bleakly, her one eyebrow arching high above the other.

Hera was frowning. She peered at Luke, and she drew her arms across her chest.

"So that's why," she muttered.

"Um…" Sabine waved her hands expectantly. "Hello? Anyone wanna fill me in?"

"Luke is Force sensitive," Kanan told her. "He's _very_ strong with the Force. I'm surprised I didn't feel it the first time. Have you been shielding? Who taught you?"

Luke paused. An echo of Vader's voice rattled in his skull. _Who taught you_? He exhaled very shakily, and he decided all the truths he had kept from Vader, except perhaps the most incriminating one, he would tell them.

"Ahsoka Tano," he said.

No one spoke. No one even moved. Kanan tensed up and Ezra made a sound that was so close to a whimper that it broke Luke's heart.

He saw the dream. He knew.

"You don't have to say anything," he told Kanan gently. "I know. She fought Vader. Nobody _fights_ Vader."

"She did," Ezra whispered.

Luke turned to look at him. He offered a sympathetic smile, and he knew it seemed hollow.

"How did you know?" Kanan asked, cocking his head. "Were you Ahsoka's apprentice? She never said… I mean, I guess it makes sense that she had one, but you and Ezra are so close in age, she might've…"

"No." Luke shook his head gravely. "I was never her apprentice. I didn't even know her real name until recently. She was my bodyguard when I was younger, and I suppose she taught me how to shield without letting me know about the Force. I had no idea I even had it until Vader took me to Mustafar."

"He did what?" Kanan hissed. This wasn't a pained hiss, but an angry hiss. Luke put a hand on his shoulder.

"Don't," he gasped. "Please. It's fine. I'm okay."

"How the hell did you get away?" Kanan shook his head. "How are you not being hunted down?"

Luke smiled faintly. "That's a long story," he said sheepishly. "But basically my father found out I was, you know, imprisoned on Mustafar, and he came to get me. Of course that went terribly, and Vader nearly killed him. I can't explain why he let me go. I guess I just appealed to the human side of him."

"There is no human side of Vader," Ezra said in a very low, very fierce tone.

Luke said nothing. He had finished applying the salve, and was digging around for a clean white linen bandage.

"Your father…" Hera pressed her lips together, and she looked at him as though she was seeing him for the first time. "Luke, your father's injury… that was Vader?"

He nodded. When he remembered Kanan could not see him, he said, "Yes. Vader choked him with the Force."

"And… you've replaced him as Alderaan's senator?"

He turned to look at her. He bowed his head and took a deep breath. "I know my first impression probably inspires little confidence," he admitted, "but this is a job I was _born_ to do. If nothing else, I can rile things up in the senate while my father is now free to pledge himself one hundred percent to the Rebellion."

"No, Luke, I understand." She shared a look with Kanan, something bold and oddly intimate as he met her gaze despite not seeing her face. "The Force isn't an easy thing to make sense of, and you… never had anyone explain it to you, right?"

"No." Luke applied the bandages very gingerly. "Just Vader."

Ezra sucked in a breath, and he shook his head ruefully. "We should fix that," he muttered. "Kanan—?"

"I can't teach Luke, Ezra," Kanan said. "I can barely teach _you_. You know how little I got to learn from my master."

"But there's no one else!" Ezra cried. "I mean, if Ahsoka—" He choked on his words, and Luke whirled around at the sound of his broken sob. Hera was at his side in a moment, snatching him into her arms and pressing his face to her chest. Ezra shuddered, muffling his tears into Hera's collarbone and curling into her embrace.

Luke knelt in silence, feeling a sense of guilt and dismay at the realization that he was intruding. What was worse, he could not find it in him to mourn Ahsoka. His heart hurt at the thought of her, but there was no grief welling inside him. The absence of it was almost worse.

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

Kanan turned his head, as though leaning closer to hear what Luke had said. He inhaled very sharply, and he shrugged. "There's nothing you could have done," he said.

"I thought I was warning you," Luke said. "I thought… I saw it, you know. I saw Vader and Ahsoka and Ezra. In a dream."

"A vision," Kanan corrected.

Luke blinked. He lowered his head and pressed his lips together thinly. "I suppose so," he said faintly.

"What did you see," Kanan said, leaning forward and lifting his chin, "exactly?"

Luke tried to recall the specifics. It was all very dim now. Hera was retreated with Ezra, stroking his dark hair gingerly as they headed back toward the shipyard. He watched them go, unwilling to look away, and wished he knew Ezra better so he could hug him and promise him a brighter tomorrow. It was unusual, being helpless to comfort. Usually Luke found himself in the position where he couldn't help but be the shoulder others cried on.

"It was dark," Luke said slowly. "I think… there was some weird noise, like wires sparking on the fritz, and everything was bathed in a purple light. Ahsoka and Vader were just looking at each other. They talked."

"They _talked_?" Kanan's mouth twisted, and he sounded incredulous. "I'll bite. Do you remember what they talked about?"

"Her master."

Kanan exhaled through his nose. "Vader killed Master Skywalker," he muttered. "That makes sense."

Luke didn't know what to say. It had sounded like that, hadn't it? That must have been it.

"Maybe," he said. "She did say she would avenge him, so I guess… yeah. That makes sense."

Kanan sat with his hands clenched in his lap. He seemed puzzled, as though what Luke was saying made sense but didn't quite add up. Luke understood. He felt like he had missed something in his vision, or like something had been kept from him deliberately.

"If Ahsoka went out fighting the man who killed Skywalker," said the unknown man, who had crept up behind Luke quite suddenly, "then I know she's at peace."

Luke turned to look at the man. He was aged and a bit heavy set, his leathery skin lined and weathered. His beard was snowy and coarse, like freshly sheered wool. Luke smiled at him.

"Did she speak of her master often?" he asked.

The man blinked at him. He cocked his head, and his lip quirked. "No," he admitted. "But I knew the pair of them, back during the Clone Wars. Served under them for the long haul, though I was only with Ahsoka when the Order came down."

"You fought in the Clone Wars?" Luke asked in awe.

"Buddy," Sabine said, smirking at him. "He's a clone."

Luke's mouth fell open. He gaped at the man, who seemed both pleased by his awe and reluctant to accept it.

"You're Senator Organa's son, then?" The man seemed to be sizing Luke up, his dark eyes lingering on the flaxen paleness of his fringe.

"You knew him?"

The man nodded. "A fine man," he said firmly. "Brave and considerate— treated us all like men, not clones. I respect Bail Organa more than most."

Luke smiled. "I'm adopted," he confessed. The remaining members of Phoenix Squadron all peered at him in great interest, except for Kanan who did not have that ability. "I get that look a lot. You're trying to figure out how some scrawny, sickly looking little boy came from Bail Organa. That's fair. I'm an orphan from the Clone Wars. My birth parents…" Luke trailed off, the sound of Vader's rattling breath and the image of the elegant, stolid Queen Amidala swirling in his mind. He found it odd, being speechless. He stood in the somber silence, and he reflected on how miserable they all were.

"I'm Rex," the clone said, stepping forward and offering his hand. When Luke got closer to his face, he saw his eyes were dim and bloodshot. "You don't have to explain anymore, your highness. I figure I lived enough of that horror to know where that story ends."

Luke peered up at his face, and he thought bitterly, _No, I don't think you do_.

"I think it goes without me saying, but…" He glanced around the room, and he smiled sheepishly. "My ability with the Force— it's a secret. The only people in the galaxy who know are my mother, father, and Vader. I'd like to keep it that way."

"Why exactly has _Vader_ kept this a secret?" Sabine asked, her eyes narrowed. "It doesn't sound much like him."

"I'd like to know that too," Kanan said. He sat, his head bowed, and Luke gazed at him sadly. His voice was getting thinner as time went on. Perhaps the pain was beginning to get to him. "What did you do to get him to leave you alone?"

Luke pressed his lips together, trying to think of a sufficient lie. It didn't work. There _were_ no good lies.

"Vader is human," Luke said, "just like everyone else. He wants things, just like everyone else. I just happened to figure out what he wants. Believe it or not, Vader doesn't tell the Emperor _everything_."

Kanan scoffed. "Yeah, okay…" He pushed a few loose strands of hair from his forehead and smoothed it back. "I take it you're not going to tell us what that is? Even if it might help the Rebellion?"

"It won't," Luke said.

"You're blackmailing Vader, kid," Zeb pointed out. "How could it not help?"

"It's not like that," he sighed, shrinking a bit at the implication. "It's not blackmail, it's just… it…"

They all stared at him.

For a moment, he truly considered telling them the truth.

But he knew that would be a disaster.

"Vader was someone different," Luke said, looking down at his hands. "Before. The suit isn't just to scare people. He needs it to survive. My father knew who he was before the suit. Before he was Vader."

"What?" Kanan leaned forward. "He wasn't always Vader?"

"Then who was he?" Sabine asked warily.

Luke could only shrug. "I don't know," he admitted. "I never asked for his name."

"Why the hell…?" Sabine breathed, shooting him a disbelieving glance.

"Because he had me tortured," Luke replied mechanically. "Because I can feel him in the Force, and that scares me. I don't want to know him, Sabine. I don't want anything to do with him."

Kanan sighed. He stood up very shakily, and he clasped his hand on Luke's shoulder.

"After Malachor," he said, "I can't blame you. Vader isn't the type of guy you want to mess with. How good are your shields?"

"Good enough to fool you," Luke pointed out.

Kanan snorted. He rapped the side of Luke's head, perhaps meaning to rub his hair, and he said, "Not good enough to fool Vader, then."

"Well…"

"Come meditate with me," Kanan said, squeezing Luke's shoulder. "You need it."

Luke heard the unsaid _we_ in that 'you.' He decided not to comment, and instead took Kanan's arm and asked him where he'd like to go.

Artoo ended up following them onto a freighter called the _Ghost_ , which Luke was somewhat familiar with.

"You should rest," Luke said as Kanan's hand glided along the walls of his bedroom on the _Ghost_. It was sparsely decorated, gray tones melding together without embellishment, and two empty bunks that hardly looked slept in. Luke helped him onto the lowest one, which did not even have a blanket. Did this man even sleep in here?

"I will." Kanan exhaled. He rubbed his bandage, and Luke caught his hand sharply.

"Don't do that. It will agitate the wound."

"Karabast," Kanan said under his breath. He leaned back, and then leaned forward. He felt along the air for a moment until he found Luke's face. His callused fingers slid down Luke's nose. "Visions are tricky things. It's hard to sort out the meaning of them, and it is dangerous to act upon them. What has acting upon your vision done for you?"

"Nothing," Luke said as Kanan dropped his hand into his lap. "It came to me too late. I couldn't warn you."

Kanan was silent. He sat, and he lifted his chin. He lowered himself onto the floor cautiously, and folding his legs beneath him. Luke mimed his actions, though he felt a bit silly doing it. Like he was a pretender.

"Was Vader the one who did this?" Luke asked after a few minutes. He knew they were supposed to be meditating, and he knew he was capable of it— Ahsoka had taught him to meditate years ago. But this seemed important.

Kanan lowered his head. "No," he said. "It was another Darksider. A former Sith called Maul."

"Maul," Luke repeated very slowly, his brow raising in alarm. "How subtle."

The corner of Kanan's lip quirked up, and he shrugged. "Dark Lords. They're not exactly known for humility."

"And…" Luke swallowed. He peered at Kanan's face closely. "I'm sorry for prying, but… Ahsoka's really gone?"

Kanan sighed. He slumped forward and he shook his head. "The Sith Temple we were in on Malachor blew up, Luke," Kanan said. "I didn't see what happened— you know, obviously— but Ezra said when he tried to go in after her she pushed him out. She sacrificed herself to try and keep Vader in that Temple when it blew up."

In his heart, he felt Kanan's words were true. But somehow he remained unconvinced that he had come here for no reason. He was so lost, and imagining that all of this had been for nothing disheartened him to the point that he might burst into tears. How could the Force be so cruel? Luke was not a Jedi. Luke did not even _want_ to be a Jedi. Why had he come here?

Malachor. Malachor… What in the stars was on Malachor?

"You should rest," Luke said suddenly. He stood, and he helped Kanan stand as well. "I'll let you rest. I think I've bothered you enough."

"I asked you here, Luke."

Luke chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously. "Still," he muttered. "I… I'm not a Jedi. I never will be."

"Well…" Kanan sighed, and he rubbed his head. "That's probably true. There's no one left to teach you."

"Even if there was, who's to say I'd even want that?" Luke shook his head. "If that life was my fate, wouldn't the Force have spared Ahsoka? Or delivered me somewhere other than to the Queen of Alderaan? I don't think…" Luke took a deep breath. Every word he spoke weighed upon him, and he grew tired of speaking. "Am I even in the right place?"

"The Force isn't always clear," Kanan told him. "It's mysterious and finicky. The best answer isn't always the one you'll like."

"No," Luke murmured. "I suppose not."

As Luke was leaving, he bumped into Hera. She looked down at him, her green eyes big and alarmed, as though she had forgotten his existence. He smiled sheepishly.

"Want to switch?" he offered.

"Yes," she breathed, taking his shoulder and squeezing it tight. "Ezra is in his room. He said he wanted to sleep, but…"

"I got it." Luke nodded sharply. "Kanan's… better than you'd expect. He was just giving me all sorts of advice about the Force."

Hera smiled thinly. Her pretty face was worn and tired, and there were dark circles beneath her eyes. "Yes," she said. "He'll do that when he's stressed. I think it calms him down."

"It's just made me more confused," Luke admitted.

Hera patted his shoulder and passed him briskly. "Don't overthink it."

After she entered Kanan's room, Luke stood for a few moments and mulled over everything. He felt dejected and unsure. What did it all mean?

As Luke wandered around the _Ghost,_ he became increasingly aware of how vital this ship was to its crew's existence. This was their home. He brushed past murals, pausing to take in Sabine Wren's sweeping artistry, and he thumbed various objects that were lying around— spare bits of blasters fashioned into game pieces, painted Trooper helmets discarded in the corner or on top of a radiator. Luke picked one up and tried it on for size. It was heavy and difficult to see out of.

"You look like a bobble head."

Luke whirled around, prying the helmet from his head and shoving it back into its place blindly. Ezra was leaning in the doorway, watching Luke with red rimmed, swollen eyes.

"Sorry," he said, brushing his hand against his cheek and rubbing it nervously.

Ezra stared at him. His dark face was smooth and handsome, free of blemishes aside from the scars on his cheek, which were several shades darker than his usual complexion. Luke found that fascinating. All his scars were blindingly white against his already milky skin, while Ezra's seemed to burn darker on his healthy brown face.

Luke decided to keep talking, his nervousness a pit that turned over in his stomach.

"What happened… it's terrible." Luke watched Ezra's bright blue eyes dart away sharply. He took a step forward and offered out his hands. "It's terrible, but you know… you know it's _not_ your fault, right, Ezra?"

Ezra scoffed, and he dropped down into a booth that curved around a table. "You don't know that," he said gravely. "You don't know what happened."

Luke blinked. He shook his head. "I don't know the details," he said, "but I think I've got a pretty good idea."

Ezra's lips twisted wryly, like Luke had said some sort of joke and only he found it funny. "Oh really," he drawled, laying his cheek in his hand and looking at Luke with tired eyes. "Enlighten me. How did it go?"

Luke inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling with a heavy rhythm. He liked Ezra. He was funny and honest, with a sort of debonair cockiness of a smuggler or a thief. Luke _liked_ that. Ezra Bridger was such a refreshing change of pace compared to the stuffy diplomats-in-training and Senator's sons that he usually surrounded himself with. Even when he was being a little arrogant, it seemed like Ezra had his heart in the right place, and that alone was enough to put Luke on his side. Ezra was a good person, who wanted to do good things, and it pained Luke deeply that Ezra was hurting so badly.

"I don't know why you went to Malachor," Luke said slowly. "I don't know exactly what transpired. But you were outmatched. A former Sith blinded Kanan, while you were left to fight Darth Vader. You can't put that on yourself. What happened to Kanan, what happened to Ahsoka—"

"Maul tricked me," Ezra cut in flatly. "He convinced me he was on my side, and then tried to kill Kanan. Vader— I don't even know what happened there. I couldn't fight him, I couldn't even _begin_ to fight him. I wasn't good enough. I wasn't _strong_ enough."

"Of course you weren't!" Luke looked down at Ezra, who shrunk back at the sound of Luke's raised voice and looked down at his hands. "Are you kidding? Did you really expect to face down Darth Vader and hold your own? Ezra, you're just an apprentice. Literally the _entire_ Jedi Order was taken down by Vader. I've never seen the footage, but my father told me stories about it— how he killed the younglings, and then the archivists, and then the knights, and then the Masters left in the temple. And those he didn't kill were shot to death by Clones, or carted off to prisons because they couldn't fight him. It's a miracle Ahsoka fended him off long enough for you to escape."

"Maybe if Kanan hadn't been alone with Maul, he and Ahsoka could have fought Vader together!" Ezra winced, hearing his own voice crack miserably, and shrinking at the sound. "It is my fault. You can't say it isn't, because I know it is. If it weren't for my stupid, naïve, _blind_ trust of Maul, Kanan would be fine. Ahsoka would be fine."

"You don't know that."

"And you do?" Ezra snapped. He stood up, and he shook his head. "You weren't there! You don't know! You don't know how weak I was, how stupid I was— I was useless!"

"No," Luke said firmly, "you weren't. You survived. You're here. The Jedi live on, because you will keep learning from Kanan, and you will become a knight. For Kanan. For the Rebellion. For _you_."

Ezra stood, his mouth parted and his fingers slackening against the table as Luke's words sunk in. Perhaps he had forgotten how desperately the galaxy needed the Jedi. Perhaps he'd been so wrapped up in his own pain that he'd failed to see the bigger picture. Luke didn't blame him. It had taken him weeks of wallowing and burying himself in work after his father had been injured to recognize that the world kept on going, with or without him.

"You think?" Ezra asked weakly.

Luke tilted his head. "Think what?"

Ezra's brow furrowed, and he bowed his chin toward his chest. "That I'll be a knight, like Kanan. I'm so bad at this, it… it feels like I'm never going to get there."

Luke couldn't help but laugh. He rounded the table and took Ezra's shoulder. He pulled him into a tight hug, his hand winding behind his neck and disappearing beneath his feathery black hair. Ezra was stiff at first, his whole body rigid and bent against Luke's arms, but then he seemed to melt with the resignation of a shell-shocked veteran, and he relaxed. He lowered his face into Luke's shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath. Luke held him tight, and remembered something his father had told him about hugs. _Squeeze the sadness out_ , he'd said, resting his cheek against Luke's hair as Luke held him tight and sobbed into his chest. Luke couldn't remember what he'd been crying about. _I've got you, Luke. Just hold onto me._

"One day," Luke said softly, rubbing slow circles into Ezra's back, "when I'm King of Alderaan, and you're a Jedi Knight, and there is no more Empire, and there is no more suffering— I want you to look back. I want you to remember this. How you feel right now? It will pass. All things do. What matters is that you learn from it, and that you grow. So when we're old and there are no more battles left to fight, you can look at what you've overcome, and you can be proud."

Ezra exhaled shakily, a sound like a sob but much softer. He pulled away, his shoulders at his ears and his head in Luke's hands, and he wiped his eyes hastily.

"It will pass?" He looked up at Luke with glistening eyes, and his quivering lips turned upwards in a weak smirk. "Really? That's what you're gonna give me?"

"It's the truth," Luke said firmly.

"Man…" Ezra chuckled, and it was a hollow sound. For a moment he rested his forehead against Luke's. "Sounds like a whole lot of Bantha shit to me, but… thanks."

Luke closed his eyes, and he smiled. He could feel Ezra in the Force. Wasn't that strange? Feeling someone else, like the small wave of warmth trickling from a candle's flame. He was shielding, out of fear and grief. Could Ezra feel Luke too?

Ezra took a step back. Luke's fingers slipped from the back of his neck, and he stepped back too. Ezra wiped his eyes again, and he looked down at his feet.

"You talked to Kanan before," he murmured. "Is he… is he mad at me?"

Luke tried to recall if he had discussed this with Kanan, but he couldn't. All things considering, though, Kanan had been entirely too calm. So Luke shook his head.

"I really don't think so," he said. "I think, most of all, he's trying to cope. I would be patient with him. When my dad realized he wouldn't be able to go back to the Senate, he was pretty despondent. For weeks. And that was over a temporary neck injury."

Ezra grimaced. He nodded slowly, not looking fully convinced, and settled down back into his seat. "You're free to stay here for the night," he offered, not looking up. "I'm not sure how much sleep I'm gonna get, if I'm honest, so you can have my bunk."

"I'm not putting you out of a bed, Ezra," Luke sighed.

"I don't mind. Really."

"No way."

Ezra frowned, but he shrugged as if to say, " _Your loss_."

"I'm not too keen on sleeping either," Luke admitted. He thought about the vision he'd had, and how he had felt what Vader had felt. If he could avoid that, he'd be thankful.

Ezra sat down and rested his chin in his hands. He tilted his head at Luke. "Bad dreams?"

Luke smiled. "Something like that," he said.

"Bad visions, then." Ezra sighed, and he closed his eyes. "Yeah. Been there. Sometimes… sometimes it's better, I think, to just ignore them."

"If I ignored mine, I wouldn't be here," Luke pointed out.

Ezra grinned toothily, and he leaned back in his seat. "Exactly," he said. "You wouldn't be here, dealing with this disaster."

"Disaster meaning you," Luke said dryly, "or the situation as a whole?"

"Hey!"

Luke grinned, and after a few moments Ezra grinned as well. Luke sat down beside him, and they continued to talk. They talked well into the night. Sabine and Zeb passed through, throwing curious glances their way but saying nothing. Hera never appeared, and Luke assumed she was staying with Kanan for the night.

Ezra's eyebrows shot up at the suggestion. They had been talking for a few hours now, and Luke had abandoned his shoes and had his feet up on the seat, one knee tucked beneath his chin. Artoo was arguing with Chopper in the corner of the room.

"They never sleep in the same room," Ezra said. "I mean, I personally have nothing wrong with it. They think they're real slick, trying to keep things professional and _not_ get mushy over each other any chance they get. But you know. Like, you _know_. You saw them together."

"Oh yes," Luke said. "I know."

Ezra's chin fell into his arms, and he stared at the door that led to the bunks. He seemed pensive and unsure. "They should sleep in the same room," Ezra muttered. "They must want to. Do you think they hold back for our sakes? I'm not gonna judge them. I mean, I'd tease Kanan about it, y'know, sure. I gotta. It's my job as his padawan. But they deserve to be happy."

"Tell him that," Luke said.

Ezra scoffed, and he buried his mouth in his arms. "Seriously? No way." He lowered his forehead, and his words became muffled. "Kanan and I don't talk about stuff like that."

"Girls?"

"Well— yeah, I guess. I mean, he'll tease me, I'll tease him back, but never anything serious. I can't just…" Ezra groaned. "Hera's the boss. She's our captain. I can't."

Luke itched to ask about Ezra's own love life, but he decided against it.

"You know," Ezra said, his voice low and slow, like distant rain, "you should think about training."

Luke smiled and looked down at his hands. "I don't know," he admitted. "I'm a politician. I have to worry about an entire planet."

"All the more reason." Ezra turned his cheek and glanced at Luke through a thick curtain of hair. "You don't have to be a Jedi. Just learn how to control the Force a little better."

Luke's lips pressed against his knee. His teeth bit into them, and he found he couldn't meet Ezra's eye. Was there any harm, really, in learning more about the Force? Luke certainly wasn't a Jedi. He couldn't be a Jedi. He didn't want to be a Jedi.

Right?

Ezra remained like that, his head in his arms. After a few minutes of silence, Luke leaned into the table and pressed his cheek to his forearm. His forehead brushed the cool checkered enamel on the table.

"Ezra?"

He spoke softly. His voice still echoed eerily off the durasteel walls and floor, the empty room yawning wide in the shadows.

Ezra's face was obscured by the thick, dark locks of hair that framed his jaw and chin. Luke could not see his eyes, and his shoulders were slackened.

 _I could sleep,_ he thought. _I could dream. There's nothing wrong with dreaming._

Luke stood up. His legs and back ached from sitting in one place for so long. After stuffing his feet into his boots, he walked the stretch of the room and pressed his hand to Artoo's dome. The droid lit up, and before he could beep, Luke pressed his finger to his mouth and gestured for him to follow.

The base was dark and cold when he slipped down the exit ramp of the _Ghost_. Atollon's dust skittered into the durasteel landing pads and slipped between his feet.

"I want you to plot a course to Malachor," Luke told Artoo as he led the droid back to his ship. "Keep the engines hot, okay? I just need to grab a few things."

Artoo beeped a hasty reply, excitement shivering in his little metal body. Luke smiled at the droid fondly. He'd worked with service droids before, but when he flew he never took one with him. It seemed rather pointless, as he was never allowed to go farther than Alderaan's system by himself.

Luke went back to the base, gathering up his leather jacket from the chair he'd sat in and his rucksack from the floor. He stuffed the medkit back into it and latched it shut.

"Sometimes I gotta wonder about teenagers," said a disinterested voice from just behind him, "are you all crazy, or just plain stupid?"

Luke turned slowly, bowing his head so Kanan couldn't see the guilty look that crossed his face. Then Luke remembered that Kanan was blind, and he felt even guiltier.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I should have waited till morning. To say goodbye."

"I don't care about that." Kanan stepped forward. His fingers were outstretched in the air, the darkness pooling around his feet as they slid uncertainly across the floor. "I heard what you told your droid. Malachor. Really?"

Luke exhaled shakily. He gripped the straps of his rucksack, a cold sweat breaking across his forehead. He studied Kanan for a moment before finding his voice.

"You going to try and stop me?"

Kanan's long fingers found the holoprojector, gripping its metal face and leaning heavily against it. His head shifted to and fro, trying in vain to find the source of Luke's voice. His nose was always directed a meter off from where Luke stood.

"I'd like to." Kanan's knuckles were white, even in the chilly darkness. "You've got some raw potential, kid. When you pull that shield down, you're like a beacon in the Force. That place is made to corrupt that light and turn it into something sinister."

"I'm not going there to learn anything," Luke said. He shrunk under Kanan's words, which were half a praise and half a rebuke. "I'm not a Jedi. I'm not like you."

"That makes it even more dangerous," Kanan said sharply. "Do you have any idea? No, you couldn't know. You've lived your life pretty damn well, a prince in a palace, a senator's son. You could Fall in a second if the circumstances were right."

"That's not true!" Luke was truly, deeply offended now. "If I was even remotely tempted by that dark part of the Force, I would be with Vader right now! Not here!"

"I'm not saying you want to, I'm saying you might not have a choice." Kanan lifted his head, and Luke's felt a pang of fear flow through him as the blind man looked right at him.

"I'm not afraid," Luke said.

"That's a lie," Kanan replied. "You're afraid right now."

Luke shivered. He never got used to the idea that the Force could read a lie. It reminded him too much of Vader, and he didn't want to think about it.

"Fine," Luke said. He marched forward and raised his head high. "I'm scared. I'm terrified! I don't know what I'm doing, or why I'm doing it, but I'm going to Malachor and getting Ahsoka's body, and nobody— not the Jedi, not the Sith, not the mountains, not the sea, and certainly not _you_ can stop me!"

Kanan caught Luke's arm, and Luke whirled to face him. This man stood sturdy, a rock in the desert, an island in the ocean, and he turned his face to peer blindly into Luke's.

His cold, callused hands reached out, and touched Luke's forehead. They grazed through his cropped, bristly hair.

"May the Force be with you," Kanan said gently, "Luke Organa."

Luke stared up at him. He might have gaped or smiled or blushed, but now such things felt pointless. So Luke touched Kanan's hand, a small token of appreciation for a blind man, and he stepped back.

"Thank you," he said. "You as well."

Kanan's lips turned up in a slight smirk. He let Luke go, and Luke turned away. He jogged from the base to the shipyard and up his own ramp, barely taking a breath to digest the conversation he had just head.

"Artoo," Luke said, throwing his rucksack aside and dropping into the pilot's chair. "Let's go."


	2. With a Ghost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up! leia again. i should be out of school by the time that happens, so yay! anyway, enjoy.

There were things she knew.

There were things she wished to forget.

There were things and there were things and then there was the truth.

She was going to die here.

How long had it been? She thought it couldn't be as long as she thought it was, but time seemed to work differently here inside the temple. She had no conception of day or night, no window into the outside world to keep her a little sane. The stones beneath her shifted when she slept, and she woke up in different places and saw different faces. She was haunted and she was hunted by ghost and by shadows. The dark was all there was. The dark, and the silence. She knew she would die here. How long had it been?

Togrutas were hunters. They were carnivorous. They moved in packs. What happened to a lone Togruta in the dark on a planet without so much as vegetation, let alone prey?

They starve.

She thought humorlessly, well, hey! Maybe she'd go insane before she starved.

Every now and again she would test the bandage that she'd blindly strewn around the stump of her forearm. She was lucky the wound had been cauterized when Vader had cut it off.

Sometimes she would fumble for one of her lightsabers, and the white light would bathe over her, and the shadows would skitter away, and then she could see what Anakin had done. Should she be thankful? Should she be angry? Should she pick herself up and keep going?

There was nowhere to go, of course. She was lost. The temple was a semi-collapsed plethora of catacombs. She had wandered around aimlessly, bumping into blocked passages and retreating, feverish and blind, using the Force only to save herself from falling rubble. She had to save her strength. She had no food, no water, and no means of escape.

 _I should die_ , she thought. _I should have died. Anakin should have killed me_.

Anakin Skywalker was dead, she reminded herself. Vader had destroyed him.

Somehow she wasn't entirely convinced. Even now.

Sometimes the pain would become too much, and she would collapse. When she woke, she woke in an unfamiliar place. Did these tunnels really move, or was she hallucinating? Was it day or was it night?

How long had it been?

She caught a rodent and sliced it with her lightsaber. She was dizzy, and ill practiced at one-handed saber work.

It was ironic. She never would have picked up jar'kai if not for Anakin's insistence that her reverse grip would get her killed.

After she had eaten, she fell onto her side and blinked white-hot stars from her eyes. Stars were her friends. They had kept her hidden. They had saved so many younglings. They had breathed into her a new life, a new focus, a new hope. Stars darted across the darkness, and they took her vision and they took her feeling and they took her breath.

 _What a coward,_ she thought. _He cut me free, but left me here to rot. Anakin, my Anakin, would have given me a merciful death._

Another part of her laughed at the thought. Anakin? Kill her? Out of mercy? Ha!

Anakin would rot slowly himself before he could cut her down.

Which made this all the more painful.

What had _happened_? What could make him turn?

Had it been Obi-Wan? Had Obi-Wan died? In her half-dazed, half-sleeping state, she could recall in alarming detail the deception of Rako Hardeen. She remembered how heartbroken she had felt, the cold numbness of loss enveloping her while the cold rage of vengeance had taken route in her master. And revenge, she knew, was not the Jedi way.

Part of her wished, every time she fell, that she would not wake. That would be easier than this constant struggle, this feverish in-between. She was not quite living, not quite dead, and it hurt. Wanting to die _sucked_. Wanting to live sucked even worse, because it meant she couldn't just kill herself and save herself the trouble of dying slow. Damn.

Her cheek tingled. She blinked rapidly, and the stars began to fade. She realized her head was resting in someone's lap and she twisted wildly, a shout clawing through her lungs.

"Shh." The wan green face of Barriss Offee smiled down at her, spindly fingers stroking her cheek and lekku. "There, there. No need to shout. It's just old friends here."

"You…" Ahsoka spat. She couldn't pick herself up, which was strange. "You are _not_ my friend. Go away!"

This was a trick. A trick of the Force. Of the Dark side. No, she would not fall for this.

"Imagine a world," Barriss said, "where you didn't exist. How sweet would that be? Your master would never know the pain of betrayal— the seeds of distrust would never have been sown between him and the Order. There would be no strife on Raada, and Kaeden Larte would never know the pain _you_ brought onto her, her people, and her moon. How many people would be living now, if not for you and your constant meddling, Ahsoka? A dozen? A hundred? An entire planet's worth? Think about Steela Gerrera. Think about Fardi. Think about _me_."

"Shut up!" Ahsoka rolled herself onto her side, hissing in pain as the blackened, mottled stump of her forearm brushed the dusty floor. She curled into herself, her cheek against her lekku and her lekku burrowing into the ash and dust and dirt that had gathered over the centuries on the temple floor. Her head was throbbing and her arm was enveloped in phantom pain, flames licking away at the space where her hand had been.

She could see Barriss. She was sitting with her cowl down, her skin wan and waxy and breathing an unhealthy sort of glow that made her look ghastly. Her hair was long and loose around her hollow cheeks. Her eyes were yellow and glistening.

"Do you think I wanted this?" Barriss asked shrilly. She raised her hands, which were empty and blistered, and she gestured to her face. Her eyes. She looked down at Ahsoka with pain and disgust swirling in her sneer. "I was a Jedi! I believed in peace, and I believed in justice, and I believed I could make a difference. Now look at me. Look what I became because of their wretched war!"

"You did that… all on your own, Barriss…" Ahsoka breathed. "You can't blame me for what you became."

"No," Barriss sighed loftily. She pulled her cowl back over her hair, and she smiled down at Ahsoka venomously. "No, I suppose not. I can blame you for my death, though."

"I didn't kill you!" Ahsoka shivered. She hated this. She didn't want to remember this!

"You _should_ have!" Barriss swept down and caught Ahsoka's face between her callused, blistered fingers. Ahsoka gritted her teeth and tried to see past Barriss's ghostly visage, into the darkness beyond her. Was there a way out? "Look at me!"

Ahsoka's eyes darted back to Barriss's pallid face. The tattoos that scattered the bridge of her nose were stark and black compared to her sickly skin.

"You let yourself become this," Ahsoka whispered, tears burning the back of her eyes and bile burning the back of her throat. "You turned your back on the Jedi. You helped _create_ the Inquisitors. Babies, Barriss! Younglings!"

"Oh, as high and mighty as ever, I see!" Barriss bared her teeth beneath her chapped, peeling lips. "Do you really think you would have done any different in my place, Ahsoka? Do you think you're so special that you can shrug off the Dark like it's a cold draft, and keep trudging on in the Light when there _is_ no more Light? Look at yourself. You are swallowed by the Dark!"

"That's such a lame excuse…" Ahsoka muttered. "Really? The Dark Side made you do it? Okay, Barriss, I believe you! I believe you were doomed from the start. I believe you wanted to die, that day on Geonosis, and I believe you _should have_."

Barriss blinked. Her yellow eyes seemed to give off their own ugly, radiant light. They grew brighter as an eerie grin swept over her face.

"We should have died," Barriss agreed, "together."

Ahsoka's mouth was dry. Her throat was constricting, and her eyes were burning. She couldn't find it in her to shake her head, so she exhaled shakily and curled further into the cold ash beneath her.

"Shall we die together now?" Barriss had released her face, and when Ahsoka peered at her, she saw that her old friend had laid down beside her. Her dark cowl was swallowed by a white-hot glow, while Ahsoka's pale montrals were shrouded in shadow.

"You're already dead," Ahsoka reminded the vision bleakly. "You're dead, and this is a trick."

"Is it?"

Ahsoka groaned. She did not look up. She could not bear to look at Ezra. Not now.

" _I'm_ not dead," Ezra said. "I'm still here. You didn't save me."

"Shut up," Ahsoka muttered, rolling on her side so her back faced them. "Ezra is fine. I know he is."

"Fine?" Barriss laughed. It was a shrill sound that seemed to pierce Ahsoka's eardrums. She winced. "This boy's been dipped head first into a pool of Darkness, and you think he'll just walk away unscathed? Not everyone can be as steadfast and certain as you, Ahsoka."

"Maul wants me to be his apprentice," Ezra said. He sounded small. So small and distant, and it hurt her heart, because Ezra Bridger had given her so much hope. His enthusiasm, his generosity, his honest heart. What a good Jedi he would be, one day. "Maybe I should let him teach me."

"You're not real," Ahsoka hissed. "You're a trick."

"Ahsoka," Ezra whispered. "Why are you doing this? Why did you leave?"

_Why did you leave?_

"I'm not listening to this," Ahsoka said under her breath. "Nope. I'm not listening."

"You abandoned this poor boy," Barriss gasped. "You might as well have just shoved him into the Dark yourself!"

"Don't lecture me about abandoning younglings, Barriss," Ahsoka breathed, "I _swear_ —!"

"At least I saw to it that my younglings were trained," Barriss scoffed. "You can't even say that."

"Ezra Bridger is in capable hands."

"Kanan Jarrus is a half-baked Jedi with more fear than this temple can hold," Barriss laughed. "You think he'll really carry this boy to knighthood? Sweetie, your own master couldn't even do that, and we both know Anakin Skywalker was the best of the best."

"I would have been a knight, if not for you."

"Sad," Barriss drawled. "You're still blaming me for your mistake."

"What do you mean?" Ahsoka shivered. "You framed me. You would have had me killed for your crime."

"But you still could have been a knight," Barriss reminded her. "You could have been a Jedi. But you turned your back on them. Like I turned my back on them. Like Anakin turned his back on them."

"No," Ahsoka whispered.

"Yes, Lady Tano."

Ahsoka opened her eyes, and found the nightmarish black and red face of Darth Maul hovering a centimeter before her. Her breath hitched in her throat.

"Okay, you know… I get these two." She gestured blindly behind her at the visions of Ezra and Barriss. "But Maul is literally the last person in the galaxy that could make me turn to the Dark Side."

"Who said I was here to make you turn?" Maul smiled at her. His teeth were yellow and caked with dirt. He snatched her by the collar of the shirt beneath her armor and he flung her into a wall. The pain registered, her spine buckling and her ribs rattling and her stump _throbbing_. She was overtaken by the reality of it, and she fell onto her face, gasping and spitting blood into the dirt.

She laid there in the dirt, silence humming and darkness running. She wondered how much of this she could take.

A soft hand fell upon her cheek.

"You've been through such a trial, little one," said a soft, familiar voice that shook all her memories until they rattled about her head like loose ammo.

She turned her face into the dirt. She moaned.

"Stop," she murmured. "Stop. No more."

"Fancy yourself impenetrable, and you leave yourself with open defenses," said a smooth talking, youth enshrined Obi-Wan Kenobi. "Come now, Ahsoka. I taught you better than that."

She didn't reply. She could not reply. This was the worst one yet, she realized. Because it had been so long, and she had seen so much, and in her heart she had mourned Obi-Wan again and again. Her grief had been in parts, like a dismembered droid being assembled a piece at a time. Accepting that he was likely dead had been like grieving a father. She couldn't remember her own father, and that somehow made it all the worse.

"If you or I were to Fall," Obi-Wan sighed, "what difference would it make? Anakin is gone. Shouldn't we, those who love him most, join him in hell?"

"No…" she murmured. "No. Go away."

"If you joined him," Obi-Wan continued, "he'd accept you. He'd love you again. Isn't that what you want?"

She couldn't speak. She couldn't respond.

What _did_ she want?

"Aren't you afraid, little one?" Obi-Wan breathed.

Ahsoka heard footsteps, and she stiffened. Who now? She was sick to death of all these visions.

She felt a pair of hands on her shoulders, and she was dragged up from the ashes on the floor and leaned against a wall. She blinked dazedly into the haze of light that was shining into her eyes, and she caught a glimpse of the vision.

"No," she croaked, turning her face away sharply. "No more… please… please… no more!"

"Ahsoka…" Anakin's voice was different. It was softer, and sweeter, like honey drizzled on bread. "It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you."

She choked on a disbelieving laugh, and her head lolled back. "Give me a break," she muttered. "You're… you're the reason I'm _here_!"

Anakin's face, obscured by the shifting light, fell rather dramatically. He seemed to bounce back after a few moments of consideration.

"I'm here too," he said firmly. "And you don't have to worry about a thing."

Ahsoka found herself being lifted, and that came as a shock. Her dizziness increased tenfold, and her pounding headache drilled through her skull and allowed her mind to leak onto the temple floor. She lost all sense of consciousness then, her mind slipping away into the recesses of the temple, falling fast and hard until she found herself curled upon the temple floor.

Everything was white and bright and warm.

She laid there, letting the light sink into her skin and elevate her spirit. Everything was bathed in a miraculous white glow, the floor and the walls and the parapets and the windows. She breathed in, and she tasted home.

"Her presence, Padawan Tano has graced us with," said a familiar, frog-like voice.

Ahsoka blinked dazedly into the white glow of the Jedi Temple, the walls and the floor seeming to hum like a well-tuned generator, and she smiled faintly at Master Yoda.

"Hello, Master," she said. She blinked at the small gaggle of children crowded around him, their eyes shining with great interest at her. "Hello, younglings."

"Hello, Padawan Tano," they chorused politely.

Yoda tilted his head. "Much strife within you," he remarked. "In the right place, are you?"

Ahsoka rubbed her face with both her hands. She looked down and saw she was wearing the red dress that she had commonly worn during the tail end of the Clone Wars, before she had left the Jedi Order.

"Oh, I don't know," she said. "Am I in the right place?"

Yoda chuckled. "Young ones," he called. "Padawan Tano's place, where is it, hm?"

A youngling stepped up. Ahsoka sat and stared at her sadly.

"Padawan Tano's place is here, in the temple," Katooni said. Her small, nasally voice was bright and full of life. Ahsoka often thought about her, and all her potential, and she wondered if she had managed to escape Order 66.

"No, Katooni," Ahsoka said gently. "My place is not here. Not anymore."

Katooni's bright blue eyes widened. Her dark skin stretched and withered as her face contorted confusedly. Her friends— Petro, Gungi, Zatt, Ganodi, and Byph— stepped up beside her. They held her shoulders as she bowed her head and stepped back.

Yoda harrumphed, tapping his staff against the floor and looking around him curiously. "Come," he croaked. "Come! Others, there are. Padawan Tano's place, where is?"

A boy stepped up. He looked a bit like Petro, with his tanned brown complexion and his mop of messy brown hair and his bold green eyes. She looked at him, and she sat up straighter, her mouth falling open as he wrung his hands nervously in front of him.

"Kanan?" she whispered. She held her head for a moment, dazed by this vision of her friend when he was so young. It struck her that he was not so much younger than her. Perhaps they had even crossed paths in their Initiate days.

"Caleb," the young, sweet faced boy said sharply. "My name is Caleb Dume, and your place is with the Rebellion."

Ahsoka blinked rapidly. She might have laughed if she weren't so shocked by the sight of him. She felt the overwhelming urge to hug him, as though that may protect him from the horror to come. In their time together, they had never really talked in depth about their childhood in the Jedi Temple. Or even really their masters. Kanan sought advice over his insecurities about taking on a padawan when he had barely been a padawan himself. Ahsoka had reassured him that Ezra wouldn't know the difference, and wouldn't care to. She'd always felt like their relationship had been one of an estranged brother and sister who had only just reconciled and had much to learn about one another.

She considered his words, and she smiled gently.

"Maybe," she said. "Maybe not. Who am I to say?"

Caleb raised a brow at her, and he folded his arms across his chest indignantly. This was a familiar look.

"If you aren't a rebel, then who are you?" he asked sharply. "Certainly not the Ahsoka Tano _I_ know."

Her smile was weak, and she felt the heaviness of knowing she had disappointed him.

"I'm sorry, Kanan," she said softly. She paused to consider her own words, and she corrected herself. "Caleb. I can't always be that person. The one that everyone can rely on. I'm sorry."

Caleb looked at her. He closed his eyes and bowed his head. He stepped back and disappeared into the small crowd of younglings.

Ahsoka sighed. What a disappointment she was to all those who looked up to her. It was funny, wasn't it? She'd never thought of herself as someone easily admired, but in all her time roaming the galaxy she saw so many people who clung to her for some ounce of strength to move forward. She didn't mind. It had been a long time since she had wondered who she was supposed to cling to.

The answer was no one. There was no one left.

"All, is that?" Yoda leaned heavily against his cane and pressed his withered lips together thinly. "Where she belongs, no one knows. Always shifting, this one is. Always in motion."

A boy rounded Yoda. He was about the same age as the rest of the Initiates, maybe a bit younger than Caleb, with a round face and neatly parted blonde hair. His eyes were a bright and resilient blue, and his smile was as pure as the warm white glow that pervaded the entire temple.

"I know where you belong," he said. He knelt down beside her, and he took both her hands in his. "You belong with me."

She knew him. She'd _taught_ him.

"I think it might be you who's in the wrong place," she teased him, "Prince Organa."

The young prince's smile did not waver. His eyes were bright and miraculous.

"Don't be so sure," he said.

And without warning, the temple fell away like stars blinking out. Stones slipped out of the grout and windows became gaping black holes in crumbling walls. The younglings stood and smiled at her warmly, lovingly, like old friends waiting at a door for her return. Yoda looked at her. His old face grew graver, his big eyes drooping sadly as he turned away from her.

She woke up, and her whole body seemed to convulse as her eyes snapped open and adjusted to the pale light that enveloped her. It was nothing like her dream, which had been soft and soothing. This light was like someone had stuck her own lightsabers in her eyes and then scooped out the burnt, gooey remnants of her eyeballs.

It was purely disorienting. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her tongue was heavy and dry behind her teeth.

As her vision adjusted to the salient white light around her, she realized she was lying in a bed. A real bed. Not a bunk in a ship, not a makeshift cot made out of hay and half-empty sacks of feed, but a featherbed. Her weathered body sunk into the mattress, molding like liquid into the thread of the cream colored silk sheets. She stared at the ornate blanket that was tucked over her, a heavy gold satin comforter that was beaded with pearls. She reached numbly to touch one, and a white cloth bit into her neck and lekku.

She looked down and saw that her arm was in a sling.

Her hand was gone.

She inhaled sharply and swallowed a scream.

What had happened?

Dimly she knew. Of course she knew, in her heart.

It was easier to pretend.

Readjusting her focus, she noted the open architecture of the room. Wide, domed walls with tall open windows and sweeping greenery overtook her senses. She could smell water, and the air was thick with the buzz of summer. Lush blossoms grew on the vines that lined the columns on a balcony to her right.

She tried to sit up, but found herself collapsing with startled cry back onto her side. Pain lanced up her right side, and she hissed through her teeth.

A soft white blur swept by the corner of her vision. Her eyes swiveled toward the figure that had appeared from somewhere beyond her sight. A slender figure had stooped beside a table at the edge of her bed. Steam rose from his pale fingers.

"My mother says nothing heals wounds or soothes scars faster than tea," said a smooth, soft voice of a young man. He turned to face her, and he held out a bowl-sized white porcelain cup that oozed a tantalizingly familiar aroma. "But my father says nothing can prepare you to take on the galaxy's bullshit like a cup of caf."

Ahsoka stared at him. It took her a few moments of examining his face to realize she knew him. The smooth, straight line of his nose, the endless warmth of his blue eyes, the dimpled chin and the peculiar placing of a mole. Her eyes widened.

" _Luke_?" she gasped.

His laughter filled the room. He sat down gingerly at the edge of her bed, and he seemed to sink into the gold satin. He wore a thin white cotton shirt that was loose about his neck and collarbone, and it was rolled up to his elbows. She noted one or two raised white scars that looked wide and painful.

"So you recognize me this time," he said. "That's nice."

"What…" Her voice was reedy. Her lips were chapped and numb. They hardly moved, and her speech was slurred. "Where…? Am I…?" She blinked rapidly and leaned toward the open balcony. The hot air wafted toward her, and her skin prickled. "Alderaan?"

"Not quite." Luke set the caf aside on a bedside table, and he rubbed his palms on his trousers. "Alderaan never gets this hot. Well, at least Aldera doesn't. I suppose closer to the equator is a bit more like this, but I've only been there twice and both times were in the south's winter. So it was pretty mild."

Ahsoka blinked at him. He looked so grown up, but it was hard to look at him and not see that small, eager little boy waiting oh so patiently for a lesson.

"Anyway," he continued, smiling down at her warmly, "you're on Naboo."

Ahsoka lurched upright. Luke caught her by the shoulders, his happy expression falling away in alarm. " _Naboo_?" she rasped. "What…? The Emperor's home planet? Are you— are you kidding?"

"Fulcrum," Luke gasped, grabbing her face in both his hands and turning her eyes to his. "You're fine. You're safe. No one will hurt you here."

"Luke… you don't understand."

Luke looked at her. He smiled and he leaned back, his hands slipping away from her face.

"I understand plenty," he said. "That doesn't change anything."

Ahsoka licked her lips. They were chapped and peeling and stinging where slivers of skin had gone missing. She pushed herself up further, shoving the heavy gold comforter away viciously. It was too hot for it, and it made her uncomfortable besides.

"How did I get here?" she demanded. Her voice was hoarse and heavy. Luke nodded.

"That's a very good question," he said. "I'm sure you're very confused. You certainly were when I found you on Malachor."

Ahsoka's mouth was dry. " _Malachor_?" she breathed. She held her head, and blinked dimly ahead of her. Yes… yes she could recall that awful place. The visions. She shuddered, and turned her face back to Luke. "How? How did you find me?"

Luke peered at her curiously. "What do you mean?"

"That place was a labyrinth!" Ahsoka chewed on the inside of her cheek, and she tasted ash in her mouth. "I thought… I knew that even if someone tried to find me, it'd be no use. I was lost."

"That's strange," Luke said pensively, his brow knitting together. "I found you right at the entrance."

Ahsoka's mouth fell open, but she couldn't speak. Something cold trickled through her, like liquid mercury in her lungs, and it was filling her up with shock and dread. Because she had been so sure. The scenes, the people, they had changed so often, so quickly, and she had been so sure she was lost.

That temple was hell if there ever was one.

"Oh," she said faintly. She stared ahead, and let a shaky breath slide through her teeth. "I… I don't know… how to thank you. Thank you, Luke."

Luke smiled at her warmly. There was such kindness in his eyes, and her heart was warmed immensely.

"You don't have to thank me," he said.

Ahsoka wasn't the type to get emotional over little things. When she had been younger she had taken just about everything to heart, and let the smallest brush of pain scar her. It was harder then to let things go, to see the bigger picture and accept the bad things in life. It was ironic, she knew, that she was more like a Jedi now in wayward exile from the extinct Order than she'd been when she'd actually been in it.

But still. She was not a Jedi.

And still, she could not help the flood of emotions that overcame her.

"Luke," she whispered, tears prickling her eyes. "Oh, Luke… you have no idea. You don't know what you risked, going to Malachor. You can't know, and— and I'm so sorry—"

Luke's eyes flashed with panic, and he lurched forward and grabbed her hand. He grasped it tightly in his own.

"Ahsoka," he said gently. She stiffened. She had definitely not told him her name. The agreement between her and Bail had been that it was safer if he did not know it. "It's okay. I know."

She sat, her shoulders taut and her face growing ruddy. As she searched his face, her tears falling back into her eyes, she leaned back warily.

"What do you mean?"

Luke met her gaze with the innocence of a youngling. She remembered her dream, and she felt bile stir at the back of her throat.

"I know about the Force," he told her, as though it was nothing more than inconvenient weather. "I know about you. About my father."

After a moment of consideration, she shook her head sharply. "He told you?" She tried to hold her head with her other hand, and her arm shifted in its sling. She had forgotten it had been chopped off. "Really? He swore he wouldn't. He swore you'd never know, and that I couldn't tell you under any circumstances less than saving your life."

Luke smiled. It was a small, bitter thing.

"No," he said dimly. "Someone else told me."

There was something of resignation in his smile that made her feel cold and lost. Something had occurred to her a long time ago, when she had first began training him. Something that she had brushed aside as a fool's dream. Seeing what she wanted to see. Hearing what she wanted to hear.

Now it felt a bit like a nightmare.

"It doesn't really matter," Luke continued, shaking his head and averting his eyes sharply.

"But it does." Ahsoka's heart felt weak. She felt weak. Like she was the outline of a holo that could not shine through properly. Like she was flickering on and off, her existence edging out by the word, by the breath. She saw Vader's eye, golden and fiery in the haze of purple light, stuck in a weathered, scarred face. It made her feel sick.

Luke looked down at his hands.

"I've bought you a new hand," he said. He spoke as though these things did not cost an egregious sum of money, and for a moment she forgot she was speaking to a prince. "I'll stay here until it's fitted, but then I must get back to Alderaan."

Ahsoka nodded mutely. She looked down at her hand. She couldn't quite believe it was gone. It was funny, really. She called up the image of Selda in her mind, as she had first seen him when she'd been eighteen. His half-missing lekku and prosthetic arm and scarring.

"You must get back to Alderaan," she muttered. She dragged her hand from his, and shot him a lopsided smile. "You talk like a politician."

"It's sort of in my blood." Luke looked at her, and he looked happy and worn like a well used jacket.

"Well, I'm not some rando in the senate who you need to talk fancy for," Ahsoka said. "I'm Fulcrum, remember? No titles between us."

"You never even told me your real name," Luke pointed out. He didn't sound or look bitter about this. He seemed to simply be pointing out a staunch fact. "I don't know anything about you, Ahsoka."

She flinched. Yikes. Had she really been that distant? She had always felt that Luke had been an incredible exception in her life. She hopped around from system to system, saving people when she could, doing the good work of the Rebellion, but she never stayed in one place too long. There were a few exceptions.

Thabeska. Raada. Alderaan.

Even Atollon and the Ghost Crew were passing waves. She loved them dearly, and had grown to find a certain kind of kinship with Kanan Jarrus that was unlike any other. Being the last of your kind was hard. Being the last of your kind without even feeling that you are fully part of your kind in the first place? Only half-seasoned padawans like Ahsoka Tano and Caleb Dume knew that pain.

But still. She had never stayed longer than necessary.

With Thabeska it had been about hiding. With Raada it had been about rebelling. With Alderaan?

Teaching.

That was new to her.

But Luke… Luke Organa had felt so worth it. She had felt more at peace meditating in the palace gardens on Aldera than she had since before the Clone Wars. And Luke had always been right beside her, falling into his meditations with little effort after the first few weeks of lessons.

He had been so inquisitive and bright.

He still was, and that warmed her heart.

"What would you like to know?" she asked.

Luke pressed his lips together. His big blue eyes darted down to her arm. When he spoke, his voice wavered.

"Did Vader do that?"

Ahsoka exhaled. She did not look at her sling.

"Yes," she said. Her mouth was dry. She didn't want to remember it. "Did Vader tell you? About the Force?"

Luke stared at her. He looked simultaneously at home here and somehow displaced. Like he had been painted into the scenery with fine detail.

"Yes," he whispered.

Her theory, which had been itching at her brain for a while now, was almost too much to bear.

No. She would not follow that thread to disaster.

Anakin Skywalker had died.

 _He freed you_ , a small, miserable voice in her head reminded her. _You were pinned beneath the rubble. Remember? Remember how the temple collapsed, and how you and he looked at each other, and for a moment you saw each other. Remember how he dove aside, and you tried to reach him, and the concrete collapsed on top of you. Remember how you watched him move, a shadow in the dust, and hobble toward you, his lightsaber like a glowing trail of blood, and you thought that this was it for you? Remember how he raised that lightsaber and missed your neck and sliced your arm in two?_

_Remember how he saved you?_

_How he left you?_

Ahsoka closed her eyes.

If Anakin Skywalker still existed, then he had left her to die regardless.

So, yes. He was dead.

"How are you still here?" Ahsoka leaned forward and reached for Luke's face. Her fingers stopped inches from his face, and she saw a flicker of her master in him.

No. Absolutely not.

Luke sighed and glanced up at the ceiling. "Good luck and biding time," he replied. "I made a… I guess "deal with the devil" is probably the best way to put it. I live day to day with this overwhelming anxiety that this might be the last free breath I take. It's awful."

"So he knows," Ahsoka said slowly. "That you… are…"

"Force sensitive," Luke finished for her. "Yes."

She eyed him. His dimpled chin and skylit eyes.

 _No_. Absolutely _not_.

Bail had never told her whose child he had been. She had never asked. They had been through so much, the pair of them, and remembering the horrors of the Clone Wars sat heavily on her lungs. She didn't want to know.

Now she was itching to call that man and beg for answers.

"He will come for you," Ahsoka whispered. She slumped forward, digging the nail of her thumb into her beaten lips. "He will want you. As an Inquisitor, or— or worse."

"What's worse than an Inquisitor?" Luke blinked at her. His eyes were so earnest that it alarmed her. He was still more child than man, and she did not know how to reconcile that. All she knew is that Vader could not have him. She would rather die.

"Don't worry about that." She snatched his hand and squeezed it tight. "We won't let that happen. You're still a prince, and that… that should keep you safe for now."

"But what about in the senate?"

Ahsoka shot him a sharp, dark look.

"What about the senate?" As she examined his face, she saw how distinctly guilty he looked. "Are you joking? You're going to _Coruscant_?"

"I'm Alderaan's new senator," Luke said defensively, dragging his hand away from hers and frowning. "I have to!"

"Vader knows you're Force sensitive. He's going to—!" Ahsoka swallowed hard. She kicked back the last bundled inches of her comforter and threw her legs over the side of her bed.

"Hey!" Luke lunged, grabbing her by the shoulders. Ahsoka twisted his left arm one handed and tossed him over the bed. He landed on the floor, skittering like spilt beads and scrambling to his feet like it had been nothing. "Ahsoka! You are in no condition to go anywhere!"

"Where are my boots?" The floor was icy beneath her feet, despite the buzz of warmth rolling in from the open terraces. Everything around her was bathed in a warm yellow glow, and it made her head hurt. "My lightsabers?"

Luke stood, his hands closed into fists at his side. She had never seen him look so furious before. His brow was furrowed and his lips were mashed thinly together like he was in pain. His face had gone faintly pink.

"No," he said. "I know what you're trying to do. You want to face Vader again, right?"

"Luke—"

"You want to face him for _me_." He shook his head. "That's ridiculous. That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard, and I ran away in the middle of the night because of a dream!"

That was news to her. She considered him for a moment, her toes curling against the icy sandstone tile.

"I didn't ask you to do that," she murmured. "You would have been better off if you hadn't."

"Oh, shut up!" Luke stooped down so they were eyelevel. "Ahsoka, you are not facing Vader. Not now, maybe not ever again."

"Oh?" Ahsoka's lips twisted ruefully. "Enlighten me, your highness. Why is that?"

"Because you are my _only_ hope of defending myself against him."

Ahsoka's mouth was dry and her lips were drier and when she spoke her words were like the desert.

"I am not your _only_ hope," she replied, "and I should have killed Vader when I had the chance."

"To avenge your master?"

Ahsoka looked at Luke sharply. He did not balk, and he did not shrink. He lifted his chin high and stood up straight.

"Vader thinks you are dead," he said. "The Rebellion thinks you are dead. When I go home, I will tell my father that you are dead. I won't force you to teach me anything— I didn't think I'd have to. But you should know that my shields are not nearly strong enough to keep Vader out."

"They're plenty strong," Ahsoka sighed. "You're just trying to keep me cooped up here. Luke, I'm a big girl. I can fight for myself."

"Ahsoka, you just lost half your arm!" Luke jaw set, and he jerked both his hands in the direction of her sling. "You are dehydrated, malnourished, and probably need a good soaking in a bacta tank! I have been waiting for you to wake up for five days!"

"Five…?"

"Yes!" Luke's nostrils flared, and he folded his arms across his chest. "Does that shock you? Do you not realize how close you were to dying? Sola said I shouldn't hold my breath— that you might never wake up. But I knew you would. I think the Force willed it."

"The Force willed it," Ahsoka murmured. Five days? She tried to play her dream over in her head. It had not felt like five days. But then, her time in the temple had felt like weeks. Had it been weeks? What was time doing to her? "You expect me to stay here. For how long?"

"However long you want." Luke's anger dissipated as fast as it erupted. He looked at her curiously. "I can't make you stay. But you need to learn how to fight with a prosthetic arm, and I need to learn how to completely block out Vader. And maybe a few other tricks."

That caught her attention. Her eyes slid over his face, and she found her toes and fingers prickling with excitement.

"Tricks," she repeated.

Luke stood in the humming yellow sunlight, streams of it rushing in through the terrace and balcony and framing him in a sort of halo.

"You know." When she did not respond, he sighed exasperatedly, and he bobbed his head from one shoulder to the other. "Like… whoosh, whoosh!" He mimed what she imagined was a Jedi holding out his hand and stopping blaster bolts. Ahsoka giggled into her hand, and Luke flushed. "You know! Force tricks!"

"They're not tricks," Ahsoka said mildly. She looked down at her hand, and she took a deep breath. "Are you asking me to be your teacher, Luke?"

"I thought that was obvious," he replied flippantly.

She swallowed hard. It almost hurt, her throat was so dry.

"I'm not a Jedi," she whispered.

"I know."

"I can't give you any proper training."

"I know."

"I have secrets. Secrets I should tell you."

"So do I."

She exhaled sharply through her teeth. Right. She didn't really know if his secrets could compare to the enormity of Vader's shadow at her back, but hey. Who was she to judge?

"If I never tell you," she murmured, "would you think very badly of me?"

Luke sat down on the bed beside her. She stiffened as he cast his arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. His cheek was warm as it brushed her lekku.

"You don't need to tell me anything you don't want to," he said.

 _I should tell him,_ she thought. _I should tell him everything I know about Anakin. If I'm going to train him, I owe him that._

For a moment, the words were at the back of her throat. She looked into Luke's eyes, and she saw Anakin, and she nearly choked the words from her tongue and let them splatter on the floor.

_Anakin Skywalker was a Jedi knight. My master. And he is Darth Vader._

Instead she asked, "Where are we? On Naboo?"

"Varykino." Luke looked around him, his face turning into the yellow sunlight and glowing faintly. His hair and skin and eyes were gold for a second before he turned back to her. "It's in Naboo's Lake Country."

"The Organas have a lake retreat on Naboo?" Ahsoka tilted head. Her lekku bumped against his cheek, and she remembered how much he had loved to press his cheek to them as a child. He had liked how smooth and warm they were.

"Oh, no." Luke laughed, and he scratched his cheek sheepishly. "This island belongs to the Naberrie family. Do you not remember?"

"Na—" Ahsoka jerked back, feeling dazed and uncertain. " _Naberrie_? As in… Padmé Amidala's family?"

Luke's eyes lit up. He nodded eagerly. "Yes," he said. "Sola said she knew you— um, well, not _knew_ you, knew you, but she'd heard of you from Padmé. She said that the way she spoke of you, it was like you were her daughter."

An unbidden, overwhelming warmth spread its wings through her chest and bloomed out toward her head and toes. Even the phantom limb of her hand seemed to flood with blood.

"Did she really?" Ahsoka breathed, catching her mouth in her hands to suppress a disbelieving giggle. "I—but, wait… how do you know the Naberries?"

Luke smiled up at her placidly.

"Old friends with Pooja," he explained offhandedly. "If you stay here long enough, I'm sure they'll tell you the story."

"Ah."

Truthfully, Ahsoka didn't know how long she would stay. Luke obviously would be leaving soon, and would only pop in when convenient for him. The implication was that this spacious home was for Ahsoka to live in as she pleased, and that was frightening. She had had hovels and apartments and rooms set aside for her and various ships with bunks fit for a soldier, but she had never had anything quite so big to herself before.

She would become antsy. Stir crazy. She couldn't keep to one place too long, not with the way she had lived her life since she was fourteen. The longest she'd ever stayed anywhere since she had become Anakin Skywalker's padawan was Thabeska, and that had only been a year.

"You know I can't just stay here." She looked into his face, and frowned when he quirked a brow at her. "Come on, Luke. This is Palpatine's homeworld. The population is primarily human and Gungan, and I'm kind of a familiar face to the Empire."

"Like I said," Luke sighed. "I'm not forcing you to stay. But it's safe, and secluded, and we can practice the Force all we want without anyone around for leagues and leagues. The only people who come and go are Sola and Ryoo, maybe Pooja if the senate is out of session, and Abbi Accu, the caretaker."

That… didn't sound so bad. Ahsoka did have to consider the benefits of taking a leave from the Rebellion. Luke had been right about her arm. She could not expect to be back to her full potential the moment she got her prosthetic. It would take months of grueling work and rehabilitation, not to mention what the Sith temple had done to her mentally.

Maybe a break really was what she needed.

"I'll only agree to this if you promise to visit me as much as you can," Ahsoka said, jerking a finger at the boy authoritatively. "Obviously be discrete about it, but don't leave me to rot here. I'm not a proper Jedi. I can't meditate _all_ day _every_ day."

Luke actually jerked to his feet, his whole face lighting up brighter than the sun-kissed sandstone that burned bright as gold plates beneath their feet.

"Really?" he gasped. "Really? You'll teach me?"

"I'm not entirely sure what I'm even teaching you," she laughed. "But yes. Yes, I'll teach you."

Ahsoka fell back a bit as Luke swooped down and enveloped her in the tightest, most sincere hug she'd gotten since she had left him on Alderaan when he had been eleven. She held him tight, burying her mouth in his hair and stroking the back of his head affectionately. She remembered when she had first met him, the fear and panic that had riddled him after Vader had first dug his claws into him.

 _If I had known then,_ she thought numbly, _would I have even taken Luke away? Or would I have marched on the Imperial Palace and demanded Anakin face me?_

That didn't matter now. What mattered was Luke. Luke Organa, heir to an entire planet with no history to his blood. He was luck incarnate.

He was, now and then, then and now, her student.

That had been what she had always wanted. When she had stolen him away from Imperial Center at Bail's frantic behest. When she had sat in the garden that first time and taught him to meditate. When she had let days fold into weeks bloom into months, missions lining up at her back and warnings whispered by passing servants and guardsmen of incoming Imperial threats. By the time she had left Luke, she had wanted so badly to make him her apprentice that she had almost foregone saying goodbye. It would hurt less, this necessary cut, if there was no real ending to it.

But now he wanted her. He wanted her half-baked Jedi teachings. He wanted to learn from her.

Luke pulled back. Ahsoka was surprised to see him wiping his eyes with the pad of his thumb. She had forgotten how easily stirred his emotions were. He had been such an empathetic child, it was no surprise this trait had carried into his teenage years.

"Before anything else," he said thickly, "you need to talk to someone. Artoo!"

Ahsoka pushed off the bed, stumbling to her feet at the sight of the familiar blue dome of Anakin's beloved astromech.

" _Artoo_?" she choked. She wobbled on her feet, and Luke caught her by the arm as Artoo warbled inquisitively at her.

"What?" Ahsoka breathed. She leaned heavily into Luke, who supported her weight despite his small stature. "Yes… yes, I've gotten taller." How flippant this little droid was! He spoke like it had only been a few days since they had last seen each other, not sixteen years!

"You know Artoo?" Luke looked up at her in awe. "Sola said he was my—" Luke cut himself off sharply, and cleared his throat. "Sola dressed your wounds, by the way. She didn't ask me any questions when I appeared at her door carrying you. Ryoo just said it's a miracle, you know, that no Imperials caught us. Especially with Artoo trailing behind us."

"Artoo was my master's droid," she murmured. She glanced at the little astromech, and it strained her heart to keep looking so she turned her eyes to her bare toes.

"Really?" Luke frowned. "Sola said Artoo was originally her sister's."

"I don't know. Was he?" Ahsoka's eyes flashed to Artoo. "Were you?"

Artoo hummed affirmatively. His beeps continued, adding that Padmé Amidala and Anakin Skywalker had switched droids. But he couldn't say anymore about that.

"Well, why not?" Ahsoka huffed.

Artoo backed up and moved forward, his beeps and boops whirring emphatically.

"Anakin must have locked that part away," Ahsoka sighed. "I guess it makes sense. Artoo's never been wiped, and after he went missing during the Clone Wars one time, Anakin built failsafes so not just anyone can access his information. I always thought _I_ was exempt, though."

Artoo's beeps were almost a chortle. The binary translated loosely into: _Ha! You thought!_

"You've gotten mean in your old age," Ahsoka muttered.

"Well," Luke said, helping Ahsoka back onto the bed, "I didn't actually mean Artoo. When I said you needed to talk to someone."

"Oh, what?" Ahsoka laughed, a short breath falling through her teeth. "Really?"

"Artoo, patch us into the _Ghost_."

Ahsoka sunk into the warm featherbed. Her fingers and toes were numb.

A small replica of Hera Syndulla erupted from Artoo's holoprojector. She peered down at presumably Chopper, or Chopper's projection of Luke, and she scowled.

" _Prince Organa_ ," Hera said, her tone sickly sweet and broiling with sarcasm. " _Lovely of you to call. I wouldn't imagine you have informed your father of your whereabouts before contacting me_?"

"Captain," Luke said, his smile sure and lovely, "I had a message sent out days ago telling my father where I was. If he did not get it, it's simply because my location is too remote."

" _Hey, Luke!_ " A friendly, boyish face appeared beside Hera's shoulder. Ahsoka pressed her hand to her lips to hide a smile. Ezra Brider looked absolutely _fine_. All of her nightmares, all of her visions on Malachor— they were for nothing. She saw the boy's bright, eager face, and his salient eyes through the flickering blue haze of a holoprojector, and she knew he was okay.

"You cut your hair," Luke observed, sounding faintly shocked and faintly charmed.

" _Oh…_ " Ezra stepped fully into the projection beside Hera, and he slumped a bit as he rubbed the top of his head sheepishly. His hair had been shorn nearly to the scalp, similar to Luke's. " _Yeah. I just felt like a change, y'know?_ "

"I like it," Luke said brightly. "It makes your face stand out more."

" _Yeah?_ " Ezra beamed.

"Yeah."

Hera was smiling. She shook her head, her lekku swinging as she smirked to someone off to the side of the holo.

"How's Kanan?" Luke asked. Ahsoka watched Ezra's face fall. He and Hera shared a look, and Ahsoka leaned forward anxiously.

" _Bad,_ " Ezra remarked dryly.

" _Ezra_ ," Hera rebuked him. She turned to face Luke, and she sighed deeply. " _Kanan isn't really himself. Well, no, that's not a correct assessment. He is being_ entirely _himself, and that's concerning to say the least_."

"These things take time," Luke said wisely. "He's not angry at anyone. He's just frustrated, and that's normal. Let him cope the way he needs to cope."

Hera considered Luke for a moment, and her eyes softened as she slumped. She touched Ezra's shoulder and nodded.

" _Luke's right,_ " she said. " _We all have to be patient with Kanan right now. Okay?_ "

" _Yeah_ ," Ezra sighed, " _okay…_ "

"But, anyway," Luke said, his voice turning cheerily, "you should go get him. I have a surprise."

" _It's not like he can see it_ ," Zeb's voice floated through the holo. Hera shot a glare, likely pointed in his direction.

" _I'll get him_ ," said Sabine.

" _So where are you?_ " Ezra peered closely at the holo on his end, as though he might be able to make out distinctive features of a background that was not there. " _Looks sunny_."

"Safe," Luke informed him curtly.

" _Really?_ " Ezra looked at him, and it was a chilly _are you kidding_ , sort of look. " _You book it in the middle of the night without saying anything, and you won't even tell us where?_ "

"Sort of need this whole thing to stay a secret," Luke admitted, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. "I don't want you guys running out here, or anything. That would be disastrous on so many levels. And everything here has to stay between us. Do not tell my father."

" _Why not_?" Hera asked sharply. Ahsoka was wondering the same thing.

"Um, because I'm not ready to tell him," Luke said. "And this is something that I— alone— have to tell him. It's really not negotiable."

" _Sounds like Luke's alive,_ " said a dry, familiar voice. Ahsoka smiled. Kanan. He sounded well too, despite the ominous behavior of the others toward him.

" _Yep,"_ said Sabine. " _Shocking how a prince could slip anyone so efficiently. He'd be a good asset._ "

" _We're not recruiting, Sabine,_ " Hera informed her curtly.

" _I wasn't offering,_ " Sabine said defensively. " _Yeesh. I was just saying. The kid's got talent for sneaking around._ "

"Thanks, Sabine," Luke said. He seemed genuinely pleased with this assessment, if not a bit nervous. "Kanan, I have a question."

" _Shoot_."

"Did you tell anyone?" Luke looked down at Artoo, and his expression became strangely somber. "You know. About where I was going?"

Kanan stepped into the holo between Ezra and Hera, and Ahsoka stifled a gasp. He had thick linen bandages wrapped around his eyes. He held onto Ezra's shoulder for support.

 _We failed Jedi padawans_ , she thought dazedly _, losing pieces of ourselves to the dark._

"Did you find what you were looking for?" Kanan replied, in place of an answer.

Luke smiled. "More than I expected," he said. "Artoo, switch."

Artoo's dome swiveled her way, and she hunched up in shock. She had been so busy observing this exchange that she had forgotten what this had been about.

A handful of gasps and disbelieving cries echoed throughout the room. Kanan turned his head rapidly from side to side. " _What_?" he uttered faintly, holding out his hand to nothing. " _What is it_?"

" _Ahsoka_!" Ezra's voice cracked, but he didn't seem to mind as he grabbed Kanan's arm and hand and squeezed it tight. " _Kanan! Kanan, it's Ahsoka!_ "

Kanan wobbled on his feet. His mouth parted, and the blue haze of the holo flickered. " _Alive?_ " he uttered faintly.

"Yes, Kanan," Ahsoka said patiently. "I'm alive. What happened to your eyes?"

Kanan touched his bandage faintly while Ezra covered his face with his hands. Ahsoka was dismayed to see the tears that had splashed onto his cheeks. She didn't know how to comfort him. Not from here.

" _Maul_ ," he said, as though that were all the explanation he needed. Which, yeah. It was. " _What happened to_ you _? We— we all thought…_ "

"That I was dead, yeah," she said, smiling tightly. "I gathered. It's okay. I honestly expected to die, and you guys getting away was just about the only peace of mind I had during the battle with Vader."

" _What happened?_ " Ezra gasped. " _How'd you defeat him? Ahsoka, he was so strong! How did you get away?_ "

"I didn't."

They all stared at her. The silence, she realized, was booming around her. Even Luke looked at her in shock.

" _But you beat him_ ," Ezra said.

"I didn't."

Ezra's eyes widened, and his thick eyebrows knitted together confusedly. Kanan put a hand on the top of Ezra's head.

" _I'm guessing,_ " Kanan said cautiously, " _either two things. One, you beat each other to hell and there was no winner, or, two, implausibly, he let you go_."

"Both," Ahsoka admitted. "Both aren't wrong."

"You didn't tell me that part," Luke gasped.

Ahsoka glanced up at him, and she shrugged. "Did you ask?"

" _Why would Vader let you go?_ " Hera's voice wavered, and her normally composed expression was wild with awe and joy and mild terror.

"Because I damaged his suit, looked into his real, human eyes, and told him something he probably wanted to hear."

_I am no Jedi._

To Vader, that may have just been an open invitation. Like, hey! This wasted excuse for an apprentice could be useful yet.

How annoying.

"That tends to do it," Luke remarked dully.

"He's very simple to understand," Ahsoka sighed, resting her chin in her hand miserably. "I mean, once you get what's going on beyond the suit, he just becomes simple. All he is, really, is pent up hatred and wasted good intentions."

No one replied to that.

Maybe she had spoken a bit too much.

"Simplicity in brutality," Luke said dryly. "How poetic."

" _It doesn't matter_ ," Ezra said suddenly. Fiercely. He scrubbed his eyes with the back of his arm, and he shuddered as though he'd swallowed a sob. " _I don't care how you got away! I'm just glad you're alive."_

No matter how long she'd been at this, no matter how many people she helped and lives she saved, she was never quite used to the quickening bloom of warmth that spread through her when she realized how much someone cared for her. She smiled warmly at Ezra, and she scooted closer to Artoo.

"You were so brave," she said gently. Her eyes flickered to Kanan's bandaged face, and she exhaled shakily. " _Both_ of you. I have known… many Jedi. And I've lost more than I've known. But you two are special. Against all odds, here you are. And I am so proud to know you, to have known you."

Ezra's salient blue eyes peeked out from behind his arm. They were glistening and glassy, filled with a mist that shifted sharply.

" _Why does this sound like a goodbye_?" he choked.

Ahsoka leaned back. She exchanged a brief look with Luke, who seemed to have a bottomless supply of sympathetic glances. She sighed and turned back to the holo.

"Ezra, this isn't goodbye." She closed her eyes and took a deep, calming breath. "Not for good, anyway. I just… need some time. I can't fight right now— I don't know when I'll be able to fight again, or if I'll ever be at the level I was. Learning how to fight with a new arm is going to take some time. I'm not my master. I'm no prodigy."

" _New arm?_ " Kanan asked abruptly, his chin jutting forward sharply.

" _Oh, right_!" Ezra gasped. " _Ahsoka's missing a hand, Kanan. Her arm's in a sling."_

Kanan slumped forward, his head bowing low. It was easy to assume he was considering the same thing she had. How alike they were.

" _Guess Malachor took a piece of both of us,"_ Kanan said distantly.

In her mind, there was Vader. There was Vader, and he was coming closer as her ears rung and her body buckled, and she tried to reach out to the Force to lift the slab of rock that had crushed her arm, but there was no hope for it. It had been just about flattened, squished into bone leaden jelly, attached to her arm by mere filaments of flesh and sinew. She had heard his heavy footsteps across the temple floor, shambled and shuffling, his limp causing his leg to drag noisily.

She shook her head hard.

"We'll both be stronger for it," she said firmly.

"Ahsoka's agreed to teach me some things," Luke piped up. Artoo's dome swiveled to face him, and Ahsoka watched amusedly at Ezra's face lit up. "I'm not going to be a Jedi, or anything, but Ahsoka was the first person to ever teach me anything about the Force. It's fitting that she help me hone it a little bit more, just so I'm not completely useless."

"You'd never be useless, Luke," Ahsoka said gently. The boy flushed, and he smiled at her sheepishly.

"No, I kind of am," he admitted. "But, anyway, we're going to keep this a secret for a little while. Since Ahsoka's got to recover, and Vader left her on Malachor to die, it'll be for the best if she's not active."

" _Let the Empire assume Fulcrum is dead,"_ Hera observed, cupping her chin thoughtfully. " _Not a bad idea. Especially for a Force user as distinctive as Ahsoka._ "

"I swear I'm not trying to abandon you," Ahsoka said hurriedly. Artoo's dome swiveled back to her. "I'm here, you know, if you ever need me."

" _We don't actually know where there is,_ " Sabine pointed out.

"Oh. Right." Ahsoka looked at Luke. He grimaced and shook his head. "Luke doesn't think it's a good idea, and neither do I. You can't come here. I know some of you might risk coming to find me, and that's a disaster waiting to happen. I'll keep a comm here, and if you need me you can call. But otherwise I can't disclose my location."

" _Understood,_ " Hera said curtly. " _We won't pry. You deserve a break, Ahsoka. Just take care of yourself, okay?_ "

"I will," Ahsoka said softly. She smiled at the _Ghost_ crew, and she felt her throat close up. "I… I'll see you guys, okay? Be safe. Be strong. And know more than anything else that you are not alone."

Hera's expression brightened, and her posture lifted as she beamed down at the holo.

" _We'll miss you,_ " she said earnestly. " _But I think I speak for all of us when I say that I'm so glad you're alive._ "

" _Wait till we tell Rex!_ " Ezra cried, jumping back on the balls of his feet.

There was a momentarily lapse of all cognitive abilities as Rex's name trickled through her mind. _Rex_. Had she simply… forgotten… about Rex?

Fresh dread and guilt washed over her. Rex had thought she had died. Rex had no idea about Anakin. Rex didn't know how close Anakin had been to killing _her_.

He had intended it, to be sure. Whatever had stopped him, it had not been mercy or charity.

Perhaps it had been guilt.

Hate.

Sorrow.

 _Rage_.

Maybe he had wanted her to suffer.

No. Rex did not need to know the truth.

"Tell him I'm okay," she said gently. "Tell him I'll be away. I have a student to attend to."

Kanan's mouth stretched into a wry smirk.

" _Will do,_ " he said.

"May the Force be with you," she whispered.

" _Good luck, Ahsoka,"_ he replied. " _May the Force be with you_."

The holo blinked out, and Ahsoka slumped. That had been _draining_. Exhilarating, and heartwarming, but draining all the same. She felt like she had aged two decades in the past week, and she still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to her while she had been in the catacombs of the collapsed temple.

Luke had disappeared. Ahsoka took up the caf he had left and rested it on her knee. She took a tentative sip while she eyed Artoo. Where had he been all these years? If he was with Luke, then did that confirm her suspicions, or negate them?

She was going to have a long chat with Bail once Luke told him she was alive.

If ever.

"I missed you," she told Artoo softly. He turned toward her. He hummed contentedly. "What happened? Where have you been? Or is that classified?"

Artoo chortled, quick beeps and boops filling the air as he launched into his tale. He had been in Bail Organa's service for a number of years, and served various Rebel cells around the galaxy. Ahsoka smiled at that.

"Me too," she admitted. "I've been working with Bail since a year or two after the Clone Wars ended. Half helped him build the Rebellion."

Artoo's blunt series of beeps roughly translated his lack of surprise.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she grumbled.

Suddenly Luke returned. His hands were behind his back and his smile stretched his whole face. He jumped onto her bed, and he tucked his legs beneath him as he leaned forward.

"Guess what?" he asked eagerly.

Ahsoka couldn't help but laugh, a snicker caught on her mouth before she could hide it. She set her cup aside and rubbed her hand against her knee.

"What?" she asked him coyly.

Luke's hands appeared from behind his back, and Ahsoka sat bolt straight. The warm yellow sunlight glinted off the polished curves of her lightsabers. The ones she had made from bits of spare parts from working as a mechanic for the Fardis and on Raada. The ones with the kyber hearts that had been salvaged from an Inquisitor and bled free of pollution. They were here. Luke had saved them.

Luke had saved her. It was the first time she had really let it sink in. Luke had rescued her against all odds. He had not known she had gone to Malachor. He had not even seen her in years. And yet, he had came. He did it.

"Where were they…?" she whispered.

"On the ground beside you," Luke said, blinking at her curiously. "Did you not know?"

"No."

"Well," Luke said with a shrug, "it doesn't matter. Here." He set them in her lap. "Once we get you that arm, you'll be able to practice again. I'd love to see that."

Ahsoka picked one up. It was warm and humming in her palm. She studied it closely, the small, careful designs, the smooth surface. Then she looked up at Luke, and she smirked.

"Wanna try one out?"

Luke jerked back, looking alarmed and unsure. "For real?" he gasped. "I— I'm not— you know, I don't think I'll ever be a—"

"You don't have to be a Jedi to use a lightsaber," Ahsoka said. "Go on. Just turn it on."

Luke looked unconvinced. But he relented with a sigh, and took the lightsaber from her lap. It was her shoto. She hadn't managed to make it any shorter than her other one, though, so it hardly mattered.

Ahsoka ignited her saber, and the hiss and snap and hum that filled the air, the warmth that spread through her, the blinding white light.

Luke held her lightsaber with both hands. He took a deep breath, and ignited it.

The white blade glowed white hot inside his eyes. It bisected his pupils and shined like a star.


End file.
